


Remember Me For Centuries

by renegadeartist



Series: We are the warriors [1]
Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Medieval, Multi, minecraft au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-17
Updated: 2014-10-10
Packaged: 2018-02-17 17:38:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 24,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2317811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/renegadeartist/pseuds/renegadeartist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Overthrown kings are one thing, but exiled kings are another. He was called the Mad King for a reason, you know. He wasn't exactly fit to rule a kingdom. It was slowly falling to ruin around him and he wasn't doing anything to fix it. Instead he stayed inside the castle, barely keeping up to date with the things happening outside his walls, learning crafts better left unlearned and committing deeds that no king should ever think of."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Some Legends Are Told, But Others Fade Away

"Long ago there was a king. He ruled a huge kingdom, all its surrounding lands, everyone and everything that dwelled within it was under his jurisdiction. But none of the smallfolk liked him. And with good reason, I’d say.” He spoke in the lilting way a nameless storyteller does, with just enough inflection to avoid monotone but enough that every word carried importance. Around him clustered the patrons of the pub, the ones who had asked of his story. Not that they knew it was his story. No one did. It had been too long since it had happened. So long that no one seemed to care. It was so long that it was barely fair to call it his story, after all that had happened. But he didn’t like to think about that. As far as he knew, he was the only storyteller that told the Mad King's story. How ironic, he mused, that he was the only person to carry on his own story. Or, at least the story of the man he once was. _It must be how normal people feel_ , he thought to himself. “He was a terrible king, a negligent one. He holed himself in his castle where even the commoners didn’t dare go near. It was an unspoken rule: you don’t go into the castle, because if you did you’d never come out again. For years they handled themselves, planting crops and dealing with personal affairs. The seasons passed and the traders came and went. But then, one day, a man decided that he had had enough of the ruler that never did anything. So he assembled a ragtag group of soldiers and farmers and set out to overthrow the king and give the people a ruler they deserved.”

"So, what? You can't just end it there. There's obviously more or I would never have heard of the Mad King before," a patron called out. It seemed that his name had survived even if his story hadn't.

"Oh, there's more alright." He replied, tapping on the empty leather scabbard that hung from his belt. "Overthrown kings are one thing, but exiled kings are another. He was called the Mad King for a reason, you know. He wasn't exactly fit to rule a kingdom. It was slowly falling to ruin around him and he wasn't doing anything to fix it. Instead he stayed inside the castle, barely keeping up to date with the things happening outside his walls, learning crafts better left unlearned and committing deeds that no king should ever think of. He put himself before his kingdom, and that is perhaps the worst mistake he ever made. Soon enough, the group assembled by the man was able to break into the castle with unexpected ease. They met no resistance on the way and when they found the king it was just him, sitting on his throne, alone."

"Where did everyone go? His council? His jailers? Cooks? There had to have been someone else,” called another patron who had been enthralled by his tale. At this point there wasn't a person talking. The pub was silent, listening to the strange man tell his strange tale about a king no one remembered.

"It was just him, alone in a huge stone castle."

"But where did they _go_? You didn't answer that part." _Who ever said there was anyone else?_

"No one knows. But the people seized him and the castle and held a public vote for what would happen to the terrible, horrible king who never lifted a finger to help them."

"What did they do to him?"

"He was exiled. But they decided that casting him from the kingdom wasn't punishment enough for his crimes. They sent him through one of the only functioning portals to the Nether with nothing but an empty scabbard, where he was sentenced to spend the rest of his days." He rubbed his shoulder, feeling the scars and burns dance beneath the worn fabric that made up his clothing. It hadn’t been a pleasant experience, but it was over and done with.

"Is that it?" Someone asked, somewhat disappointed. His gaze was dragged towards them, for it wasn't the tone of someone who was listening to a story they didn’t want to end. It was the tone of someone who wanted more information. He decided to give the man what he wanted, if only to find out why he wanted it.

"Some say. Not all, though. Some say that before his exile he had found the thing he was looking for.”

"What was it?" Asked the same man as before. Ah, so that was what he was searching for.

"It was immortality," at the collective gasp he chuckled. It was hardly worth it, for what he got. “With that to keep him alive it is said he still dwells deep in the fires of the nether, waiting for the day someone would open a portal, a gateway back to this world.” He sat back, looking over the faces of the patrons, and he smiled. The gateway was long closed, but it had been one nonetheless. “It's only a story, and I'm just a storyteller. Who knows, though. Maybe he did find it. Maybe he's still there today. But whether he found it or not has nothing to do with the fall of the royal line, ending in the War of Common Men." And with that he plunged into the tale of a war that everyone preferred to forget and he viewed as his greatest achievement.

-.-

In a small rented room above the inn's pub two men having a hushed conversation, not wanting to disturb any of the other patrons. Not that they would have made a dent in the rowdy noise from all the drunken men below. It was their second such conversation, the first one drowned in beer and mead and the delight of seeing an old friend again. But that had seemed ages ago, and since the alcohol had worn off it left stone cold clarity. "It's just a story, Geoff. There's no need to go running around chasing a legend that probably isn't true." The man was tall and broad, but for all that he looked the most vulnerable of any man or even woman in the establishment. His friend was talking nonsense, and even after their initial discussion about it he still had a hard time processing the fact that one of the most level headed and clever men he knew was talking about dead kings and immortality. It had been a shock then but it was worse when he didn’t have anything clouding his judgment.

"There! You said it again! 'Probably,' Jack, not definitely. As long as there's a chance I'll go for it." Geoff was rummaging through his belongings and pulled out a small leather bound notebook. He scribbled lines of his illegible handwriting, taking notes about what they had heard from the storyteller below in the inn's pub. Jack shook his head, still unconvinced that the story was anything but. He just wished Geoff saw it as well.

"I don't get it, why are you so determined? You have a family, a life, back in the city. Why throw that away chasing ghosts?" Geoff's hand stilled, stopping the rapid lines that were appearing on the paper. He didn't look angry or even confused. What Jack saw in his friend's eyes was so much worse. It was a look that said nothing was going to stop him, even if his aspirations were unreachable. It was the look of a man who was determined to find what he was looking for even if it meant their death. That was the one thing he dreaded above all. The death of his friends or his family was something he couldn't bear to experience after the war ended. But Geoff wasn't going to listen to sense.

"I'm not throwing it away. There's a war coming, everyone knows it. They ignored the signs the first time. That was the worst mistake the kingdom ever made. I came so close to loosing them, Jack. I don't want that to happen again. I just want to make sure my family survives it, even if that means 'chasing ghosts' as you keep saying."

"So you're throwing your life away, going on a suicide mission, and you expect me to buy any of it?" He folded his arms. When the Beggar's Army had still been connected and functional it was hard to get Geoff to talk about anything but his family. He always said they were safe behind the sturdy walls of the kingdom and practically preached of how they were going to celebrate when the war was over and done with. It changed when a siege was laid on the castle, making it impossible for any and all communications to get in or out. Those days had been the worst, not only for Geoff but for him as well, though he couldn’t claim to have been as distraught as he was.

"You came with me," he pointed out. It was obvious he expected Jack to come with him, or at least be there until he had another lead on the location of what he was looking for. He knew Jack too well; he knew that there was no way he would let his friend go alone.

He sighed, sitting down on the hard straw mattress that the inn provided. "Do you even know what it is you're looking for?"

Geoff shrugged. "Kind of. I know one thing, though. The storyteller knew more then what he told.”

“Please tell me you’re not going to harass a bystander with your insane plan.”

“Alright, then I won’t,” he said, striding out of  the door.

“Where are you going?”

“You told me not to tell you.”

-.-

When the crowd around him dispersed he found his way to a small table away from the murmurs and drunken conversations about anything in the world from the weather to family matters that shouldn’t be yelled out in the semi smoky air. It was strange, he thought, that people could just live their life every day, knowing that someday they wouldn't be there anymore, gone from the world and eventually forgotten. It was a strange and crushing feeling that he still experienced even though his life showed no sign of ending. The fear of death still persisted even when he was outside of its grasp.

The bartender swung around, asking if he wanted anything to drink. Beside him, the man from before, the one interested in his story for all the wrong reasons, was the one to reply. "I'll take your strongest." When he left the man's attention turned to him. _Oh no_ , he thought, _here we go again_. "You're the storyteller from earlier, then?" Ryan saw the man appraising him, his eyes sweeping from his empty and battered scabbard to his faded and tattered red cloak.

"That would be me, yes."

The man took a long drink from the glass that had appeared beside him before sticking his hand out for him to shake. He didn't. "I'm Geoff, veteran of the Beggar's Army and freelance sword," he continued, undeterred. "You know, it's dangerous to be traveling the roads without proper protection." Geoff tapped the hilt of his sword, an old thing that had doubtlessly seen many battles if what the man said was true. It was rare to find anyone who would proudly proclaim that they were part of the Beggar's Army. It was rarer still to find anyone that would even talk of the Trader's Army and the foreign lords that commanded them.

"I don't exactly have anything worth stealing." Maybe he could dissuade the man from trying to pry information from him. If not, then he could at least make sure that he survived long enough to give up on the quest that would not end in happiness.

"No," he said slowly, clearly weighing his next words, "but you have information that I want."

Ryan decided to feign innocence. "Oh? And what would that be? I am nothing more than a humble storyteller."

"You know more than you say," he tried, while the man sitting behind him sighed loudly. It seemed that only one part of the party wanted anything to do with what Geoff was searching for. The man had an impressive beard and a well-worn but still impressive armor set that only covered some parts of his body, as opposed to Geoff, who wore almost full plate armor that was somehow compact and light, casted a dark green. They were both way out of their element, and it showed. He knew a desperate man when he saw one, and Geoff was certainly one. There was something in his eyes that told Ryan that he wouldn’t give up, even if he didn’t have the information he was searching for.

"Why do you want to find immortality? Many say it is a curse as much as a gift." Many people did say that, but Ryan was not one of the people to believe it. It was a comfort, the knowledge that the next day he wouldn't be thrust into the dark void of death, but continue to live, staving off the inevitable for one more day. He knew most immortals didn't share his sentiment. They spend the days wishing for life to end instead of fearing it like they should. The main thing that immortals lamented on, however, was their curse that went along with their eternal life. He had no idea what the man wanted the gift for, but it was probably something vain or connected to his experiences during the war, of narrowly escaping death and managing to live but one more day. Maybe he shared similar feelings about the inevitable grasp of death.

"I need it to keep my family safe," the man said. That, if nothing else, was enough to render the exiled king speechless. Out of all the things that had flashed through his mind, a selfless reason was absent. Maybe he had been spending too much time around the worst humanity had to offer. Whatever it was had nothing to do with the matter at hand. This man wanted to find something most thought impossible and he believed that Ryan had the keys to it.

It wasn't the first time something like it had happened. Of course there had been many others, each with their own story and individual reason. The only time any of them were similar to Geoff's was when a man with a long forgotten name wanted to revive a lover who had passed only recently. He never bothered to tell the man that the method he knew of didn't work that way. The adventure ended with a sword through his heart and a dead man to match his dead lover.

He glanced up at Geoff who was staring at him in apprehension that was barely concealed. Something deep inside him stirred, and a spark of fear shot through him. The man behind him was listening in, though he didn't show it on his face. "Alright," he heard himself saying, "You want to voluntarily seek out a curse? Fine, I will help you."

It wasn’t Ryan who said it.

-.-

The room was quiet enough. It was dark but for the low burning candles and the small, dying fire in the hearth. "I know of a portal hidden in the mountains. There are rumors of a hidden path that will bring you to the top." _All lies_ , he stopped himself from saying. It was his own room, if only because Geoff didn't trust him enough to hold the meeting in his room.

Geoff waved his hand, shaking his head. His armor was off, leaving him in a well-worn jerkin and pants that ended just above his green boots. "No, that won't work. The mountains are too treacherous and too far. It would take much too long to make our way there and back."

"Very well," Ryan said slowly, "I have heard rumors of a stronghold hidden in the forest."

Geoff's eyes finally found their way to the former king's face. He was thinking, weighing the pros and cons. There was no way he was going to say no to the possibility of an expressway straight to a practically assured source of immortality: the End's fountain. It wasn’t a good thing, though. The path was treacherous and if he didn’t have a guide it was almost an assured death. "How sure are you of it being in _that_ forest?" he finally asked.

"Almost certain." The doubt danced in Geoff's eyes. He knew very well what that particular forest meant for travelers. From all over the kingdom people would talk of their main timber source and of the countless workers that had fallen prey to the forest's curse. One of the singer's favorite songs to sing was about the Sleeping King, the first man to lead an expedition deep into the trees, only to be found months later, sleeping peacefully under the crooked branches, never to awaken.

"The Somnolent Forest... well, if nothing else, it'll make a good story to tell." His face remained impassive but his heart sank. Ryan had really wished he would say no.

-.-

The man from the inn- Ryan- had told them to wait outside, with their bags packed and their rents paid. It had seemed like he was going to reject anything Geoff shot at him and downright deny any accusation they put towards him, no matter if it was true or not. But then he had surprised both him and Jack by agreeing, albeit not in a way the former soldier would have liked. When he thought about it, there wasn't much about the man that he did like. There was an aura around him that was hard to explain. Not exactly dangerous but with the potential to be. He considered looking for another guide before realizing that there would be no way to find one in time, much less one that would be willing to show them the way.

"Are you sure this is a good idea? We don't have to go through with it. We can just walk away right now. I'm sure Ryan wouldn't mind." Jack was messing around with his pack, tightening the strings only to pull them apart, and then start the process over again. He was nervous, that much was obvious.

"You don't have to come, you know." It was true enough. The man had been present for his conversation with Ryan and he knew at least a little of what they were getting into. He had left during their planning period, so he had no idea of the danger he was in. "It's a long, treacherous path," he had said, "you would do better to stay with your family instead of trying to help them in a way that will inevitably end in your demise." But despite the warning Jack had still stayed. Geoff highly doubted he would be there after he figured out their route. He was a faithful and honest man, but even Geoff doubted that it would go as far as chancing a curse.

"Yes I do, Geoff," he said. "If I don't go then who will make sure you come back alive? I know you, Geoff, and I don't trust Ryan or you to go on this adventure alone."

"Well isn't this touching." Geoff whirled around to see their aforementioned guide standing behind them. He was wearing clothes befitting a veteran traveler that was all but covered by a faded red cloak that seemed out of place. His right hand was gripped firmly around a large wooden staff topped by a red orb that seemed to almost glow and an empty scabbard hung at his side. "If you two are done, we can start the first part of our journey."

"First?" Jack muttered.

"Jack, is it?" He nodded, prompting Ryan to continue. "I realize you weren't there for most of the conversation but that's no excuse to stay ignorant. The first leg of our quest is going to take us to the Somnolent Forest. There are rumors of a stronghold hidden there and I have reason to believe that they are correct. The second part is entering the End, where the fountain of immortality is located. From there we have to leave the End and that's where we part ways. Simple enough, I'd say."

"So you just expect all that to happen flawlessly." It wasn’t a question.

Ryan’s face remained impassive. _Maybe not for them_ , he thought, wishing for the umpteenth time that they would just leave. "Yes," he heard the king say. _Hopefully_ , Ryan thought.


	2. He took a step but then felt tired. He said, "I'll rest a little while."

Their journey started without any mishaps. That, if nothing else, was enough to brighten Ryan's spirits. It wasn’t like he had expected it to immediately go off the rails but he sure didn’t expect everything to go fine. Before a week had passed they had journeyed through a few towns and trading outposts, through sparse forests and broken roads. Everywhere seemed to be a new experience for the two men and every new city was an adventure. For Ryan it was the same thing he’d seen on his many travels, though it was like seeing the world all over again because of their excitement. One of Geoff's favorites had been the Altar, a huge pyramid that was built into the sky, higher than anyone could see. The sides were made of smooth stone that had no cracks or holes anywhere you looked. It was older than anyone could remember; it had even been old when Ryan was a child. But despite that it had withstood the test of time perfectly. There had never needed maintenance and it had never needed anyone to care for it. It was a monument to times long past and a culture long dead. Some said that it was created by the Builders, and even others said it had been created by the world itself. There were many legends surrounding it and even more mysteries but one thing was clear: you never went inside.

Because of that there were tents and stalls and caravans gathered behind the altar's shadow and skirting the forest’s edge. It was a popular gathering place of underground transactions and questionable exchanges, but even so it had an air of familiarity and friendliness. There was an aura around structure that made it hard to harbor any negative feelings towards anyone. There were children dressed in bright clothes playing loudly by the woods; there were smiles and laughs that carried across the gathering. For the most part bright and cheery colors dominated the area, though some vendors were tall, covered in inky black robes and had glowing purple eyes. It was perhaps one of the only places where you could have a conversation with an Enderman and survive. Others still had loose fitting clothes, some bright orange and others faded yellow, with feverish skin and burning red eyes. The Blazes had their stalls, which, in contrast to everyone else's, were made of nether brick, stacked farthest from the forest.

"Ender Pearls, Blaze Rods, potion stands!" came the yells of the vendors, each trying to run out of wares before the other. The range of goods was impressive, from apples and potatoes to books of spells and cloaks of gold. Nearest to them was a man in a black cape lined with red, arguing loudly with a merchant that put his cloak to shame on the price of his Ender Eyes.

Jack and Geoff looked around in wonder, their eyes never staying too long in one place. It was obvious that it was their first time in a place like it but there was no way they could stay long. Maybe a day. Or a night, just to avoid monsters. While he was contemplating they had already rushed off, looking at everything and anything there was to buy. It was all new and foreign to them, and they seemed to be having a great time. Ryan rolled his eyes, though he couldn’t help but smile. _They look like children_ , the king muttered. He jumped, startled at the voice. He could have sworn he heard laughing, but he was already running to catch up with Geoff. He tried to get rid of the dark feelings gathering around him. It seemed to be happening more often, and Ryan was sure he didn’t like it.

"Hey, Ryan, you should get this," Geoff said, holding up a cloak with a plaid pattern. It was mostly red, with some fur trim that made it perfect for winter. It even had a hood. "I'd say it's an upgrade from the one you have now." He gestured at the tattered and worn cloak he always wore. He felt a spike of anger, and he was almost certain it was the king. He reached out and took the piece of clothing offered to him. It was of a high quality, though not as high as the red cloak had been. It was just a destroyed, meaningless piece of the king’s past now, though. It wasn’t something he had to hold on to.

"Alright," he said, donning a crooked grin. If Geoff was willing to open up to him he would return the favor. He turned to the vendor, a kid no more than ten. "How much?"

The kid looked at him for a moment, scrutinizing how much he could price it without getting turned down. He was scrawny and small, his black hair falling into his eyes, making it hard to judge just what he was thinking. "Three gold," he finally said. Geoff went to work digging into his pocket, pulling out the aforementioned gold. He slammed it down, though before Geoff pulled him away he noticed that he had put one extra piece of gold down. Ryan actually smiled for once.

"I saw what you did," he said, pulling his arm back from the man’s impressive grip.

Geoff refused to look at him. He was quiet, his face turning red from embarrassment. "Well how can you blame me?" he mumbled. "The kid obviously needed more than three gold to eat tonight."

Ryan didn't say anything. He had been surprised to say the least to see the man act so selfless. Maybe he had a soft spot for children. He definitely didn't act like that when gambling with adults. After his performance it was suddenly easy to imagine that he was going through the whole ordeal to help his family. They wound their way through the dispersing crowd, dodging in-between the tall figures of endermen and the tiny forms of children rushing between people’s legs. It was getting dark already and people were turning in for the night to count their gold from their sales and make up for the stolen ones. They found Jack at the blacksmith's, looking critically at daggers mounted on the wall. They weren't the best blades he'd ever seen but Ryan didn't doubt they worked just as well as castle-forged steel.

"Hey Jack!" Geoff yelled, causing the man to almost drop the small knife he was looking at. He recovered quickly and glared at Geoff. "You'll never guess what I got Mr. Gloomy to buy," he said, pointing at Ryan.

Jack put the knife back. He was obviously trying to look like he was indifferent but Ryan could tell he was curious. "What, Geoff?" he asked tiredly.

"I got him- show him, Ryan-" he whispered back to the man. He rolled his eyes and unfurled the aforementioned item. "A new cloak!"

Jack chuckled. "Well, I guess I have to get something for him too, then." Before Ryan could protest he spun around and gently picked up a one handed knight’s sword. It was simple, but still as effective as the one he’d lost. "I guess you need something to go in that scabbard of yours."

"You don't-" he tried to say. Jack only shoved the sword into his hand, letting him feel the weight and the temperaments of the weapon. The second it was in his hand he knew that he couldn’t say no.

"Nope, I don't," Jack wiggled his finger in front of their guide's face. "But that doesn't mean I don't want to."

Reluctantly Ryan agreed, watching the man gamble with the blacksmith. “A _diamond?_ Are you crazy? Absolutely not!”

Eventually Jack got the man down to five gold, but only after a long period of haggling and arguing. The end result was a familiar weight hanging from Ryan’s side and a newfound bond with the two men that he previously didn’t particularly care for. It was almost enough to make him forget about the inevitable doom that awaited them. Almost.

-.-

The first misfortune they encountered was miscalculating the distance of one outpost to another, forcing them to stop for the night. It had been a while since the Altar, and all the while they had become closer and closer friends. Ryan wasn’t sure if it was a good thing. They had to make camp under a lone oak tree, standing as a landmark to anyone fortunate enough to have a map. Good thing that they were part of that anyone. "Don't you think it would be better to make it to the inn tonight?" Jack asked, warily looking around the area for any monsters hiding in the semi darkness that the setting sun was casting. Already they were crawling out from under every tree and cave, looking for an unwary farmer or traveler.

"Do you think it would be better to be jumped by mobs in the night?" He could understand Jack's reluctance to camp out in the dark but it was better than being on the road when the monsters come out. It was a strange thing, for fear of death and all unfamiliar noises at night to persist even when he had escaped it. It seemed it was always present, only being outshone on occasion. But the fear that was always there, twisting and turning and muttering dark things was enough to drive anyone insane. But he had had a taste of what that was like, and he had no intention of going back.

"I agree with Ryan," Geoff interjected, waving a hand in front of the man's face. "Hey, are you alright? You kind of spaced out there for a minute."

He shouldn’t have thought about it. For the longest time he had tried to ignore it, to disregard the presence that was just beyond his perception. But it was getting harder and harder, and he knew that acknowledging it was a terrible mistake. Whatever god or deity manufactured the curses for every person who received immortality was a cruel one, but he doubted they expected the outcome that had been his curse. The king was supposed to be gone, not hanging on, determined to survive even when, by all accounts, he should have died. The Mad King still lived, even when he was cursed to become the terrified young man, scared of his own shadow. He felt his fingers creep unbidden towards the scabbard that still hung by his side, now occupied by a dangerous weapon. "Stop," he whispered forcefully.

The hands that he felt shaking his shoulders startled him so badly that any remnant of the king vanished in an instant. He stared up at worried blue eyes and a face that shouldn't have held as much emotion as it did. It was the face a father wore when his children were hurt. He’d seen it before but for some reason this time he didn't like it. Was it him, or was it the king? He wasn’t sure anymore. "Ryan. Are you alright? You look like you're going to pass out."

He swallowed hard. "I'm fine. You two set up some torches around the tree. I'll take first watch." Neither of them looked like they believed him. Even Jack, the one who obviously didn't harbor the best feelings towards him, even after the past few days, looked like he was ready to force Ryan to talk if he showed the slightest sign of spacing out again. They did what he told them, though, and he was glad that they didn't press the issue.

When everyone but Ryan was safely asleep he sat down near the base of the tree, resting his staff across his lap. It wasn't as good as a sword, but he knew enough magic to make it a formidable weapon. Besides, he didn’t trust himself with a sword in his current state. The sword, along with the scabbard and the red cloak were stashed with everyone’s things. The night was far from silent, yet he still felt the urge of sleep as he sat, watching everything as it would happen. He would wake Geoff up when the night receded enough. When the beginnings of the morning came he would rest, but for the moment he was standing guard.

A few minutes later he was asleep.

-.-

He hadn't expected to dream. If he ever slept he rarely dreamed. It was usually just a pause, a black period where the sun would spin around the sky and he wouldn't have to wait through it as he always did. But that night it was different. He was standing in a dark corridor, lit only by the occasional torch hung on the wall, even though they were burnt out more often than not. He was running, hand clenched around the gilded hilt of a sword that shimmered in the flickering light. It was a sword he had not seen for a long time. The last time he had had that sword was when... oh.

He tried to stop the movement of his legs, tried to stop the walls from rushing by and his breath coming up short. But it wasn't him who was running so there was little he could do. It was the king and he was searching for death deep within the maze hidden under the castle. He was looking for the fearsome beast that dwelled there, as angry as the day it was created. He was seeking the last piece to immortality, his first death.

The tunnels rushed by, each one almost the same as the last. If he had been anyone else he would have been lost instantly, cursed to wander until the beast found him and killed him. If he was anyone else he would not have even created it in the first place, much less a maze to contain it. It had been an accident, anyways. It was the first time he had tried to make the potion, the one described in an old book hidden in the depths of the castle with an Ender Eye embedded in the cover. It had many spells and incantations, brews and creatures, but the thing that had interested the king the most had been the potion of immortality, the one that imitated the waters of the End's fountain. It was the answers to all his questions and aspirations, the ones that didn't involve the kingdom he was supposed to be running, and he was determined to create it. Too bad the first try had gone awry, transforming a youth he had tested it on into a huge, fearsome beast. 

He could hear it now, roaring in the dark. It was as big as he remembered, towering over him with its huge body and gigantic tusks similar to a bull protruding from its head. It snorted and its eyes found the elegantly clothed king before him. He felt his hands tighten, bringing the sword in front of him even though it felt like a mere toothpick. In that moment he felt the king's fear, the thing he had always avoided, always ignored. In an instant he felt the pain that was always just a vague memory tear through his stomach, painting the dark stones a deep red. He felt the pain and panic and fear that the king had felt as the beast ran him through. It was the fear that the potion hadn't worked, that these were his last moments alive, that he was finally dying.

A moment later the king was gone and so was the hole in his chest. He stood up shakily, looking around and running his hands over the slick stones, trying to find the sword that had flown out of his hand or the crown that had cracked against the wall. When his hands came back filthy and empty he felt the fear seize him and he was running out of the maze and back to the castle. He could hear the beast, deep down in the dark, and for the first time it scared him. The deep thrum in his chest from the noise wasn't an afterthought; it was something hiding from him, waiting to run through him again. When he was in the castle again, collapsed on the cold marble, he finally realized that he had achieved what he was looking for: immortality. What else could have saved him from a gruesome death like that?

He heard a voice echo through the empty halls. It shocked him out of his thoughts and he listened for it, wondering if it would come again. It did, but only after he had started to think he had imagined it. "Thief," it whispered, "coward." He stood up quickly, grabbing at the empty scabbard with a sinking heart. He knew the voice twisting its way into his head. It was his own, or, rather, the king's. "You don't deserve to be me. After all I've worked for," the voice spat at him. This wasn't right. This hadn't happened before. It was just a dream, a half buried memory. He though he saw movement in the corner of his eye, a shadow coming for him but never reaching.

He was under the giant oak and Geoff and Jack were sleeping soundly. His clothes were worn and cheap, the tattered red cloak still clinging to his shoulders. He sighed, hoping that it was all over. He rested his back against the rough bark, staring up at the night sky. He only looked down when he heard a shuffling on the ground. It was Geoff, getting up to start his watch. At least he thought it was, before he turned around. His face was not the one he remembered, open and fatherly and scarred by history. The thing that stared back at him was not Geoff Ramsey but the Mad King, disguised  to look like the man he had unwillingly started to warm up to. He felt a jolt of fear run through him when he realized he had the sword, the gilded sword with the blue blade that had been lost for so long, forgotten in the labyrinth under the castle. He walked towards Ryan, slowly and deliberately. When he was close enough he kneeled down so he was level with Ryan's face. For a moment he was Geoff again, smiling and making things seem alright. Then it was gone and a scowl replaced it, his eyes holding pure malevolence towards the man scared stone still, sitting against an old oak tree. "Give me back my body," he snarled. Ryan had no chance to reply before a sword was through his stomach. It wasn't like the other times, the times when the pain would spike and then recede. It was a throbbing, constant pain that persisted even as his vision started to waver. He was dying, some small part of him whispered, and for the first time in a long time he felt real, founded fear. It overwhelmed his sense of reason and threw him into a panic. He couldn't see, he couldn't think.

Someone screamed, and he was almost certain it was himself.


	3. I've trained myself to give up on the past 'cause I've frozen time between hearses and caskets

The peaceful night was interrupted by a sharp scream that tore through the night sky and woke both him and Jack up instantly. They both sprang up from the ground, their slight training taking effect immediately. His shoulders were tense, and he was grabbing for a sword he didn’t have. He felt like Ryan and his weird tick to always grab at a sword that was absent in his scabbard. His eyes scanned the area for danger, finding none. He relaxed a bit and his eyes found their way to Ryan, who was on the ground, clutching his stomach and his face contorted in pain. He was stunned for a moment before the scream rang again, and this time Geoff knew it was from their guide.

He rushed over to the man, grabbing his shoulders and checking for wounds. He ran his hands over the man's stomach and felt no blood and no bruises. He sighed with relief. He wasn't hurt, he was fine. But then he screamed again and Geoff had to assume it was a nightmare. He wasn't sure if that was better. It was shocking, to see the composed man show such emotion. He had to do something. He couldn’t just let him suffer from a night terror. "Hey!" he yelled, shaking Ryan's shoulders, "Wake up! It's just a dream, Ryan, you're fine." Geoff said it for the man’s sake as much as his. Terror was building and he was scared that Ryan wouldn’t wake up. The man's eyes flew open, frantically flitting from place to place. He looked panicked and afraid, a huge contrast to the calm and collected look that he perpetually wore. This was pure terror. "Ryan! Calm down!"

His eyes found Geoff and he immediately started trying to get away. He scrambled over to where his things were, grabbing the sword that Jack had gotten him. His hands were shaking so badly that he couldn't pull it out of the scabbard. He settled into an unbalanced and panicked stance, his eyes reflecting everything he was feeling. Geoff flinched, not expecting that reaction. It was as if Ryan was _scared_ of him. Geoff was about to step forward and calm the man down but he felt a hand on his shoulder, stopping him. "Don't," Jack said. "He's still trapped in whatever dream he was having." Geoff was about to protest before he actually looked at Ryan. His eyes, though full of emotion, were unfocused and his motions were wide and erratic. Jack was right.

He stepped forwards even though he felt jack's hand tighten on his shoulder. This was Ryan, he knew Ryan. He was the man who had agreed to help them, the man that had refused to warm up to them before their stay at the Altar. He was the man that knew how to laugh at a joke and didn't talk if you needed silence. He had so much potential to be someone and the man sitting alone in a bar was not the same person standing in front of them now. Geoff felt like they had cracked through the man's protective layer, and he hoped against hope that it was true. He wasn't just a man anymore; he was someone he had to take care of, like he had to take care of his family. They were just an extent of that, Jack and Ryan. He had to help him no matter what.

"Ryan," he said slowly, getting within his sword's reach. His eyes were still unfocused but the shaking had subsided. He just needed another push to wake up. At least he hoped so. "It's alright, there's nothing here to hurt you." He put his hand over the sword, gently lowering it. Ryan's eyes finally cleared, and his face fell back into a neutral expression. The sword fell and his hands hung limply at his sides. He slowly sank to the ground, pulling the plaid cloak tighter around his middle. Whatever happened in his nightmare had obviously shaken him badly. "You alright?" Geoff sat next to him, starting to put his arm around Ryan's shoulder, but at the sharp flinch he withdrew. He wasn’t sure if he should have been offended or concerned.

"I'm fine," he finally whispered. His voice was hoarse and cracked and still had a hint of panic. He was staring at the ground, his hands still slightly shaking. Geoff hated seeing him like that. It just… wasn’t right, somehow. "It's just..." He trailed of.

"If you need to talk about it we’re all alone out here." Ryan's shoulders started shaking. At first Geoff thought that he was laughing, or maybe relapsing. It hit him like a bucket of ice cold water when he realized it was silent crying. "Hey, Ryan..." This time he did put his arms around his shoulders. He didn't flinch.

He took a deep, shuddering breath and composed himself. "I never told you how I know the Mad King's story, did I?"

-.-

He couldn't help but feel that something had changed. He hadn't meant to tell them about his past. Hell, he doubted he had ever planned to tell it to anyone. But with the king's recent activity it was hard not to let it all out, to share what was slowly chipping away at him from the inside. A part of him regretted it. They didn’t deserve to be burdened with his problems. He could handle the king on his own… hopefully. On one hand, Geoff looked like he was ready to help in any way he could. He had donned the concerned father look, the one that said he would jump through flaming hoops just to make sure he was alright. But Jack had been keeping his distance, keeping a sharp eye on Ryan, trying to gauge how long it would be until he snapped and their guide was lost. It was the reaction he had expected, though Geoff’s definitely wasn’t close to a normal person’s. 

He didn't know why it bothered him so much, but it did. Ever since he had spilled his story all over the two men they hadn't said a word about it. It had just been him and his words, swirling into the inky black sky with the smoke of a dying fire. He wasn't sure if they even believed him. He wasn't sure if it even mattered. One thing he did know was that he couldn't just ignore the king any longer. In a way Ryan had been the man, he knew his ambitions and morals, though the history had become faded over time. He knew who the king was, and if he had stayed the same in the centuries he had stated dormant then there was no way he was just going to let Ryan continue on in peace. But, because of the curse, the king couldn't get rid of him either.

He heard the sound of footsteps getting closer, and he glanced over to see Geoff walking beside him. He resisted the instinct to flinch. The nightmare was still fresh in his mind. "So do I have to call you 'your highness' now?" he joked. Ryan appreciated the gesture, though he wished it was easy to explain to him what had happened. It wasn’t something that people had to deal with on a daily basis.

"You don't have to call me that. The king, however, is another matter entirely."

Geoff was silent for a moment, a look of contemplation painted across his face. Ryan didn’t want to guess what he was thinking. His imagination would soon get the better of him if he did. "So let me get this straight. You're not the Mad King, you're who he became."

"In layman's terms, yes."

"Because of a curse?"

"Yes."

"So..." he awkwardly mumbled, “what happens if the king... y'know..."

"Gains control again?" It was the lightest he could put it, for his sake as much as Geoff's. The man nodded. He didn’t look afraid, so that was good. "He'd get tired. I'm the owner of this body now, not him. The curse cast him from it, giving it to me, who I think am supposed to be the embodiment of who he didn't want to become. Essentially, if he ever did manage to control his body completely it would only be for a few minutes, an hour at most. He sure as hell can still talk, though." The last part was mumbled, though he immediately regretted it. The veteran’s expression was hard to read, but he knew that nothing good was going to happen to the king any time soon.

Geoff's face had remained impassive through the entire speech up until the end. It was a little scary, if Ryan was completely honest. Usually his face was so expressive, showing what he was going to say before he ever said it. But he was just looking at him, not hinting at anything going on in his mind. Behind him Jack looked relieved. It seemed that his fears had been abolished. If only it could happen to Ryan too. He had told the truth, about the king and what he wanted to do. He knew it, too, but that wouldn't stop the king from trying. A lot could happen in a few minutes. "He's not hurting you, is he?"

Ryan blanched, staring at the man who had made him open up, the man that had allowed him to throw away the last inklings that he was still the person who had sought out a curse in return for eternal life. "W-what?"

"He's not hurting you is he? He's not putting you through hell for something you never did?" Ryan's eyes found the paved dirt road. He couldn't look at the man and lie to him. Geoff snapped, grabbing his shoulders and swinging him to face him. "That's it. I want to talk to him."

This time he physically flinched. "Why?" He wasn't even sure if he could do that. It wasn’t like he’d ever tried to.

"That's going to be between him, me, and Jack." The aforementioned man had caught up to them and nodded in confirmation. He didn't look like he harbored any ill will against Ryan anymore, but he did look like he was ready to raise hell for the king. Geoff's eyes were burning, and he knew there was no way he could refuse the veteran.

He took a deep breath, closing his eyes and focusing on the dark presence that was always just out of reach. He felt it stir, swirling around him in a vortex, blotting out his vision and throwing him deep into a bottomless pit where he was trapped, dreaming of the past and unable to catch up to the future.

-.-

The castle was always silent and cold. There were vast furnaces and huge chambers and cells that stretched underground for miles. There were ballrooms and towers and any manner of rooms, too many for one person to staff on their own. But, despite all that, there was only one person living in the huge structure. It had only been a few days since he had been killed by the monster in the maze and he had barely moved at all in that time. It wasn't like he could die, so what was the point of moving if it would only let the fear capture him and throw him back to the ground? It was an overpowering thing, and every time the monster roared it surged through him with a vengeance.

Eventually, though, he did get up. He wandered the halls, feeling like a ghost in the place he never really called home. Was it him that lived there before? He wasn't sure and he didn't want to look back at the past, at the person he had been. It wasn't a happy place to be, not that the castle was any happier. Something had changed, and he knew it, though he wouldn’t acknowledge it. His footsteps echoed through the halls, only stopping when the sound of splintering wood and running feet clad in all forms of armor. He followed the sound, feeling a strange combination of fear and excitement, and found himself in the throne room. It was the first time he had been there since his accident and a surge of familiarity crashed through him. This was where the king spent most of his time, pouring over documents and potion ingredients. He made his way up the platform, gazing at the tall golden chair lined with all sorts of carvings and sharp points. He sat down, careful to not prick himself on any of the protrusions. Something told him that would be a very bad idea.

The second he had sat down the doors of the throne room broke open, allowing hundreds of men all brandishing some sort of weapon into the spacious room. It was a shock to see people, actual living people, after so long, and he felt himself smiling. It was shaky and unsure. He had no idea what it looked like to everyone else. The sentiment was not returned. Two men, one of which had a mop of brown curls peeking out from a helmet transfigured into a snarling bear, walked up to the throne, pinning his arms behind him and tying the king's wrists with a fraying rope. He didn't protest, too shocked to say anything. _What have I done?_ He wanted to scream. _It wasn't me! The king is dead, it wasn't me!_ But before he could a gag was placed over his mouth and his screams were lost in his throat. He wasn’t the king, he _wasn’t._ That man was long dead. What were these people doing?

The next few hours were a blur. The people of the kingdom he used to rule cheered at his imprisonment and jeered and swore and spit at him. They stood him on a raised platform while the people shouted to exile him, to punish him, to _kill_ him. All the while he screamed into his gag, but no one listened and no one heard, over the roars of the crowd. Eventually they stopped, and he looked up to see a swirling purple vortex, waiting for him to be thrown through. They placed a tattered cloak around his shoulders and an empty scabbard at his side. "Have a safe trip, your highness," the youth with the bear helm sneered, before pushing the man who the king had left behind into the portal. The next thing he knew he was lying in burning sand, his hands still bound and his gag still in place.

He felt the flames start to eat away at him, burning away rope and gag and skin, leaving him to scream in agony as it ran its course. It was burning; it was _hot,_ hotter than anything he had ever felt before. It burned through his sense of reason and left him with nothing but the pain, searing away any memories or thoughts. It didn't occur to him that he wouldn't be able to die, that he wouldn't be able to escape his fate, until he found himself standing on a rocky outcropping overlooking the fires that would never stop burning and the castles buried in the sand. He was fine; though healed burns could be seen all over his body and small scratches from a rope long gone still lingered on his skin.

-.-

When he opened his eyes again he wanted to scream, to run away from the heat and torment that he had tried so hard to forget. He had escaped from that hell, he was safe now. He looked around and saw that he was lying down in an inn, scratchy woolen blankets pulled up around him. He kicked them away, relishing in the cool morning air. The sun was only just rising and when he looked out the window he saw the familiar clay tiled roofs of Graymist, a modest mining town a few miles away from the Somnolent Forest. When he swung his legs over the side of the bed he felt a sharp pain lace through his stomach. He looked down, seeing bandages wrapped around a rapidly closing wound. It seemed that his fast healing didn't carry over when the king was in control. That was good to know.

He heard a creaking noise and saw Geoff and Jack walk into the room, bags hanging by their sides, heavy with provisions and their voices light and happy. He felt a flicker of anger from the king, though it was diluted and weak. It seemed that his excursion had drained him harshly.  "Good morning lazy ass," Geoff sang, dropping his bags near the door. "I see you're finally up."

"What happened?" Ryan muttered, pulling the bandages away from his stomach. Jack looked like he was about to stop him when he noticed that his wounds were completely healed.

"Well, I can tell you one thing. The king is an asshole." Ryan felt a tired spike of anger from the king. It had also drained his body, considering how long he had allegedly slept. "You're also fucking heavy."

“I don’t think you’ll have to worry about him bothering you anymore,” Jack said, looking pleased with himself. “We made sure of that.” For the umpteenth time Ryan found himself wondering what had happened when he was dreaming.


	4. The truth be told, I'm worried what the future holds. I'm so tired of being worried about Ray.

They decided that a day more in the town would do Ryan some good. He wasn't fully recovered from the ordeal the previous day, but he was getting there. His legs weren't strong enough to endure any serious traveling and his stomach felt like it would digest itself if it didn't get food soon. Geoff and Jack had offered to go out and get him something, on the condition that he was not allowed to get out of bed. So, as soon as the two men had left for the day, he settled himself on his bed and opened a book that they had found in an old, creaking store . Their exact words were "you like reading dusty books, right?"

It was a while before anything serious happened. By then the candles had burned low and Ryan was slowly drifting off to sleep again. The low murmur from the streets below had been diminishing all day, a sign that it would soon be time to turn in for the night. His eyes fluttered open when he heard a creaking in the floorboards. He wouldn't have given it a second thought if it had only come once, but soon enough after the bombardment of creaks there was a rustling. He looked over to the origin of the noise and saw a black shape that looked suspiciously familiar. He slowly reached for his staff, summoning enough energy to cast a powerful stunning spell and praying that who or whatever it was wouldn't notice him in the dark room. A bright light burst through the redstone on the tip of his staff, hurling itself towards the figure. It nimbly jumped out of the way and Ryan jumped up, ready to chase away the looter if he had to.

The second his feet hit the floor he had to make a conscious effort to not fall over. It didn’t take much energy to use magic but in his current state it was a huge impact. The spell had illuminated the room for a brief second, but Ryan cast a quick light charm and suddenly he could see the source of the noises. He was young, just past his twentieth name day. His face was partially obscured by a white mask that covered little more than the area around his eyes. He wore mainly black, his cloak accented by a red lining. He was small and young and there was no way that Ryan would chase him off. "You were at the Altar." He said it in a confident way that made the man pause.

"I hoped you didn't notice." His voice sounded as young as he looked. It was a strange thing. His outfit said looter, thief, untrustworthy, but his voice was the exact opposite. It said that he was a child, a friend, trustworthy only if you put time into talking to him.

It didn’t change the fact that he had been at the Altar, that he had been there presumably since the inn. "So you're following us, then? Why?"

He shrugged. "The same reason you're taking those other two to the forest."

Something about the man made Ryan pause. He was so young and already he was searching for a longer life. Maybe it had something to do with the fear of old age, of not being able to care for yourself of work the job you built your life around. He made a decision. It wasn’t hard, and he already felt himself warming up to the man. "You won't make it there alone. You need someone who won't be affected by the curse to guide you through." The man looked at him quizzically, though why Ryan couldn't be too sure.

“You won’t be affected because of your weird… thing?” he made a vague motion with his hands that Ryan took to mean the king.

Instead of answering he just asked "Why don't you come with us?" He had nothing to lose. If he was really looking for immortality then he wouldn't try to get rid of any of the party, or else risk losing everything. And if he had been following them since the Altar he knew that there was no way to kill Ryan or the king.

The man sat down on the ground and pulled out a knife to sharpen. "Alright." He dragged an oilcloth over the blade, a half conscious motion. "I'm the Rose Knight, by the way."

"You're no more a knight then I am a king. Who are you, truly?"

His hands stilled and he stared at Ryan for what seemed an eternity. "Ray."

-.-

When he and Geoff got back after a few hours the last thing they had expected was an extra member to their little party. He was young, that much was clear. He was cleaning his weapons and polishing his armor on the ground like he belonged there and Ryan was sitting, reading by candlelight. He seemed calm enough, so Jack didn't automatically panic. "Who're you, then?" He received a jab in the side for the comment. He sent a glare towards Geoff, but it was lost because he was going about his day like the man wasn't there.

The black cloaked stranger, however, responded to his question with a flurry of red and black clothes. He stood up swiftly, performing an almost perfect mock bow for Jack. He wasn’t sure how he felt about the man’s sass. "I am the Rose Knight, at your service."

"His name is Ray," the former king interjected from his spot on the straw mattress. He had put his book down and was getting up to help Geoff, only to sit down again when the veteran scolded him, telling him “Don’t worry about it, I can handle it. You sit your ass back down.” He did, but with a slight pout. It was obvious that he was comfortable with everyone in the room, including Ray. He wondered how long they had been talking and how long he had been there. "And, like I told him, you can't call yourself something you didn't earn."

"Hey!" yelled the not-so-knight, looking a bit put out. "I'm just as good a fighter as any of those stiff necked bastards that prance about the castle in their gilded steel. I don't need a royal blessing to call myself a knight."

"Yes, but it also helps to not be a thief."

Ray finally sat back down, muttering "Well it's hard to get a job these days."

Geoff clapped his hands together, causing everyone in the room to jump. “Well! It seems like we have a new party member!”  He had a broad smile on his face, one not reflected back at him. He ignored it and turned to Ryan. “Are you alright to travel tomorrow, Ryan?”

“I should be fine. I still want to know what happened, though.”

Ray snickered from his spot on the floor. “You got your ass beat.”

Jack only smiled and started to organize everyone’s provisions for the journey the next day. Ray would fit in just fine, though he would have to keep a close eye on the lad. He wasn’t quite sure he trusted him yet, but in time maybe. Ryan had long since earned his trust, and that wasn’t a thing lightly put. The fact that he had followed Geoff to the ends of the world because of that trust was proof enough that it was worth something. Maybe, just maybe, after the journey was long forgotten, they would still be stuck together. It wasn’t the worst fate imaginable, after all. 

-.-

When they finally set out again it was a motley crew made up of a king, a carpenter, a veteran, and a thief. It sounded like a child’s tale. He was glad that Ray had settled so easily into their ranks. It wasn't a strange thing, to find thieves, especially since the war had ended. It was hard to find a job, and even harder to get a straight answer as to who the current king was. It kept changing, one day it was the Onion Knight, another it was The Lord of the Altar, though everyone knew the Altar had no lord. He recalled that someone once had the audacity to call himself the Mad King reborn. It was one of the few times that the king had come out, back when he was still weak from his first death. That time was over, though, and Ryan had become accustomed to ignoring him. Kings and even queens came and went. It had become the norm, for a man to die suddenly in the night and a new king to be crowned by morning. There hadn't been a stable king since the fall of the first royal line, also known as the Mad King's Burning. It was a fancy title for a gruesome punishment.

_Ryan_ , a voice whispered as they walked through the low, raised portcullis that blocked Greymist from the rest of the world. The sky was blotted by clouds and everyone knew it would mean. Snow. The white flakes were just falling when he heard the voice again. _I'm... sorry_. It had been a few hours since he had heard from the king. It had been when he had just met Ray, he had woken up, yelling and cursing about a "damned green swordsman." He assumed that was Geoff. A while after that he had fallen silent, not saying a word before a moment ago. It wasn’t like the other times; it lacked the hatred and spite that had become characteristic of their conversations, if it could even be called that. It wasn’t the first time that he wondered what the hell Geoff had done to push the king off his high horse.

"What?" He said out loud, caught off guard by the sudden out of character outburst. The other members of his band halted their conversation, choosing instead to stare at Ryan in puzzlement.

"What is it, Ryan?" Jack asked, looking mildly concerned. He probably had an idea of what was going on inside of the man's head.

"It's the king..."

"What about him?" Asked Geoff, more defensively then he had expected. He looked ready to tear the king a new one again.

"He just... apologized."

"Good." Geoff said with a finality that banished all further thoughts on the matter in favor of happy conversations about anything and everything. As they walked the snow fell and Ryan was thankful for his cloak to keep him warm. They made their way, making progress through the leafless trees and the cliffs that sidled the road. It was a fairly merry time, as they walked the road together. Geoff regaled tales about his time in the army and Ray cracked the occasional dry humored joke.

The roads were full of people, of carts and wandering priests and merchants looking for somewhere new to sell their wares. At one point a kind, good natured farmer offered to give them a ride as far as the nearest crossing. They had graciously accepted, making polite conversation with the man, though not delving too deep into their or his personal life. At the crossing they waved farewell and continued on a considerably emptier path.  

"You know," Ray remarked, "this area is known for thieves and rouges. We should be careful, watch out for anything strange."

They continued in silence, straining their ears and hearing nothing but the sounds of animals running through the underbrush and the whispering of wind through the trees. The snow had piled high, almost causing them to miss a small, off white pile of something on the ground. _Bones_ , Ryan thought. There were little bits of cloth still clinging to it, ripped apart by crows and thieves.

The veterans looked at it almost impassively, and that was scary enough. They were so young, though Ryan didn't look it he was older then all of them combined. It didn't feel right, for people just starting their lives to already be numb to what they would become. Maybe that was one of the reasons they had chosen immortality as a cure to all their fears and nightmares. At least Ray looked a little disturbed. He was the youngest, too young to remember the War of Common Men very well and much too young to have fought in it. The winds whipped around the bones, stirring the snow and whistling eerily. He found himself humming a song he had heard once, as a child. A silly yet eerie song that was half sung by the wind itself. It wasn't until he opened his mouth did he realize it wasn't him, but the king singing. "Have you seen the ghost of John, long white bones with the skin all gone?" He sang, the haunting melody echoing off the trees and continuing on through the wind.

"Wouldn't it be chilly with no skin on?" An unfamiliar voice sang. There was a slight twang and suddenly Ryan had shielded the small party with a dome of magical energy, blocking two arrows that had been shot their way. He was about to lower the shields when they detonated, sending Jack, Geoff, and Ray in all different directions. Ryan was thrown at an outcropping of rock, his head crashing into it. There was a moment of intense pain before it disappeared, along with his vision. It was almost like a dream. His body was moving without his consent, drawing his sword and defensively standing in front of his slowly recovering friends. The man responsible for the arrows had made his way down from the cliffs, an arrow nocked and pointed at his heart. If it weren't for the motley green hood he wore Ryan would have been able to see his surprised expression. The only thing he could see, though, was a threat. His sword swung down, but before he could cleave the man in half a gauntleted hand gripped his arm.

"Ryan," the man said. That wasn't right. His name wasn't Ryan. His name had been long forgotten, buried along with the secrets of his studies, of the old crumbling books that held the secrets of the universe. Ryan was the thief, the one who had stolen the fruits if his labor. His face contorted into a scowl, and he shook the man off, turning around only to see the other one, the one with the beard, standing in front of the boy, a shield placed firmly between them. They were the ones who had treated him like a child, chastising him for tormenting the thief. He couldn't find it in him to hate them, though. He had jumped into battle to protect them, after all. "Ryan," the man said again, more forcefully this time. He gasped, feeling the thief rip control away from him. He tried to fight back, a natural instinct that had been buried for so long. He felt himself sink to the ground, a strange feeling overwhelming him, and suddenly the king was gone.

Ryan jumped up, panicked. "What happened? Did anyone get hurt?" he slowly calmed down, glancing at the archer responsible for the arrows. "Who are you?"

The archer looked like he was about to answer before Ray's voice cut through the cold afternoon. "Gavin! What the hell do you think you're doing? You could have killed us, you asshole!"

The archer noticed the newest member of their party, his hood falling off and revealing a man with a shock of wheat colored hair. His green eyes became even more apparent with the different shades of green discoloring his face. He wore a green tunic and brown pants as well as thick leather gloves. "Ray? What are you doing here?" He had a strange accent, clipped and yet there was a slight hiss in his words.

Behind him, Geoff gasped. "You're a mutant." Gavin's face became alarmed, seemingly forgetting that the most obvious part of his mutation was plainly displayed on his face. He looked about ready to run away before Ray walked over and put a hand on his shoulder.

"They're friends, don't worry. As for what we're doing here... well, maybe you'd like to come along."

"Are you kidding?" Jack shouted. "He almost killed us! You want him to just come along for this? Not to mention he's a mutant.  Who knows how long it'll be until his powers burn him to a crisp?" As if on cue, the thick gloves covering Gavin's hands started smoking before they fell away, revealing hands patterned like a creeper and smoke just dissipating around them.

"I wasn't trying to kill you..." He muttered, only to be largely ignored. Ryan glanced over at the creeper-boy, seeing him pull on another set of gloves and self-consciously pluck at his hood, Ray the only thing keeping him there.

"Well," Geoff said, an obviously fake smile plastered on his face. "Why don't we just leave him here, alone, and in the cold?" He dropped the act. "No, Jack. We're not leaving him out here. If he wants to come with us then he'll have a way to postpone or straight out stop the inevitable for him. I’m not letting him stay here to die." It seemed that it didn’t matter to Geoff that he had tried to kill them, or, at the very least, to knock them out and steal their belongings of value.

Gavin started, staring at Geoff in disbelief. He turned to Ray, muttering, "What exactly are you doing out here?"

"We're going to the forest. There's a stronghold there."

"What? You can't be serious. Immortality is wishful thinking at best." The next part he muttered, though Ryan heard him just the same. "Besides, there's no way to save me. I was destined to die the moment I was born."

"Well, considering we have proof that it works, I'd say your best bet is to come with us," Ray said. It was hard to notice, but if you looked hard enough it was plain that he cared deeply for the creeper-boy. He didn't want him to die a horrible death, and Ryan wondered if he had a slightly noble reason for wanting to find the stronghold. It wasn't impossible, especially considering that Geoff had a similar reason.

"What? Who?" Gavin asked, his eyes darting from one person to another. For the first time Ryan saw a spark of hope in his eyes.

"That would be me, hello." Ryan said, waving his hand trying to get Gavin's attention. "Though, before you agree, I should warn you that you're seeking an escape to a curse that will only end in another one."

"What is it?" He didn't look like a curse would sway him from trying to find a cure to his mutation. It was especially bad, considering that he was creeper-born. Enderman-born usually had a greater chance of living out their life peacefully and to some degree blazes as well. The only mutant that was assured a spontaneous and inevitable death was a creeper.

"It's different for everyone. For me it was becoming a different person. Not so much a punishment for me as for the person I was. For you... well, who knows."

The look on Gavin's face was enough to tell him that they had just gained a fifth member of their party.


	5. I came here for sanctuary, away from the winds and the sounds of the city. I came here to get some peace, way down deep where the shadows are heavy.

The forest sprawled out in front of them for miles. There were carts full of logs and fallen trees being pulled by slow moving oxen as more workers felled one tree after another. The Somnolent Forest was populated mostly by lumberjacks working just out of reach of the forest's curse, though every so often a worker would fall asleep, never to wake again. There were taverns and houses built by the workers and people traveling to and from the nearest cities. It had been a long journey, but finally they were there.

The roads had been full of carts and the small inns had been bustling with patrons. The forest was cursed, but the land around it was full of workers and farmers, using the fast-growing soil to yield huge crops and sell them back at a larger city where wheat was never seen in the vast quantities that grew near the forest. Their journey would have been crushingly boring, he knew that, if it hadn't been for the banter with the occasional serious conversation in-between. He was glad that Gavin had, much like Ray, settled into their ranks fairly quickly. He was a strange lad and his accent was the target for most of their jokes, but it was still clear that everyone cared for him, and Gavin returned the sentiment in kind. It made his heart hurt whenever he thought about his heritage. Whether he was born to human parents or creeper ones didn't make a difference in the fact that he was banished from his home the second he was old enough to walk. It was probably strange to him, just walking and talking with friends who didn't care that he was doomed to die because they were going somewhere that would save him from that fate.

They had to stop for a night. Ryan said that they couldn't afford to sleep once inside the forest. He would be able to protect them from the curse, but once they fell asleep there was nothing he could do. Jack had suggested boarding at an inn and Gavin had suggested sleeping outside. Ray had said he didn't care either way and Ryan said he was used to worse conditions then sleeping in the dirt. At least it was cold, he'd said. It made Geoff wonder what he meant.

There was always that legend, the Mad King's Burning, that kept coming back to him, reminding him that there was a chance that Ryan, the Ryan that managed to be a relatively sane person despite the maniac in his head and laugh at jokes he plainly didn't think we're funny, had went through hell and managed to escape. When he saw the Ryan that reacted to the whistling of arrows in a split second, the one who had been able to recover from getting his head bashes against a rock, he could believe it. But most of the time he was Ryan. Just Ryan, and that was good enough. Sometimes Geoff wished that was all there was. If that was true then he would have been able to live a life, maybe marry and have children to carry on his legacy. If that were all there was he would still be Ryan, but without the one that hunched his shoulders and fought a king to help people who had been complete strangers to him not too long ago.

His head swirled constantly with worries and anxieties, not just for Ryan but for everyone he had come to know. Jack was too loyal, he would get himself killed one day. Ray was a thief and had nowhere to return to after their journey was over. Much like Gavin, though maybe he could give them a home. Why not? After it was all over, whether they had succeeded or not, his huge empty house was big enough for their group. He was sure Griffon wouldn't mind. Burnie and Matt would have to stick it if they protested. They were family now, and he wasn't sure that there was anything that could reverse that.

The sun was setting and they had to make a decision. Somehow it fell on Geoff to decide where they would sleep, but before he could say they would just have to rough it for the night, a young boy came running out of a log cabin that had hollow windows glowing with a golden light. He had a gap toothed grin and messy dark hair. "Hello!" he said, looking up at the strange party. Geoff immediately smiled back. "My ma saw you out here. She wanted to ask you if you wanted to stay the night. We're too close to the forest for you to sleep outside, so come with me. Ma's put on some soup."

They followed the boy into the home. It was modest, full of wood carvings that made Geoff think of Griffon and mats spread out on the wide open space on the floor. He assumed it was for them. A comely woman was stirring a steaming pot, and when they entered she straightened and said "Hello, I'm Miles's mother." Geoff assumed Miles was the boy. "I saw you five outside, and since you're so close to the forest... well, I just thought it would be rude not to invite you in for the night."

-.-

It was nice to sleep in a house again. It was beyond nice. To have a roof above your head and a fire blazing that you didn't have to worry about others seeing. It was warm and friendly and comfortable, things he wasn't quite used to yet. Instead of immediately falling asleep like the rest of the party had, he was stuck staring at the ceiling, watching the shadows produced by the slowly dying embers in the fire.

The soup had been the best thing he had eaten in years, if ever. Usually it was anything he could get his hands on. Hard bread and dried meat if the travelers were destined somewhere far away. Perishables if they were destined to the forest, though people like that usually traveled in groups. It seemed that his usual spots had been noticed by the locals. The forests-though he wasn't sure they could be called forests now that he had seen the Somnolent Forest- that he frequented were always loud and full of sound. The sound of life going on and monsters shifting through the leaves. The sound that there were things out there, things besides him, was equal measures a comfort and a fear. It was eerily silent in the house but for the low breathing of its residents. The forest outside the window was silent, the curse keeping out any type of animal. There were no monsters to be heard and the closest tavern wasn't near enough to let the drunken noise reach them. It was too comfortable and too silent. He couldn't sleep.

Instead he found himself thinking of the strange band that had picked him up. At first he was just going to knock them out and steal anything of use to him from them. He would leave them enough to get by, but he had to live somehow. They had stopped, and that was something he hadn't expected. They had stopped, looking down and something he later learned was a pile of bones. It wasn't surprising. There were too many travelers through the pass because of the forest. It wasn't unlikely that the person had been an unwary traveler, met with the unfamiliar cold and left to die. Whoever they had been was unimportant. Ryan had started singing, a strange song that rode on the wind and reached him where he sat, crouched under the foliage that he melted into, hidden by the greens and shadows. He had heard the song before, though he could only remember the last verse, as morbid as it had been. He hadn't realized they heard him until his arrows were blocked, canceling out the explosion that would have normally knocked them out for an hour at most.

He was glad he had, though. He was glad he hadn’t just stolen what he needed and left them. His mutation was always there, burning in his stomach, just waiting to burst out and consume him. It had seemed to lessen in the days between their meeting and their stay in the house so near the forest. It was laughs and merry conversations in between. It was learning how to push the older men's buttons and getting to talk with Ray more then he would ever have the occasion to. The only reason they knew each other was because of the archery match held by the king at that time. The Playful King, the people had named him. He stayed longer than most, hosting tourneys and tournaments. Ray had entered the contest for archery, falling first before everyone but Gavin. It had been a short friendship, but a fruitful one nonetheless. To top it all off, they had offered him, a stranger, the opportunity to escape his destiny. He could live the life he had never planned on living. One with friends who cared about him and a life where he didn't have to hide what he was.

He heard creaking floorboards and footsteps. His first instinct was to jump up and bring his bow out, but his hands grasped nothing and the warmth of the blankets made him hesitate. Instead he twisted, trying to see who it was. He saw Ryan leaning out the window, gazing out into the silent forest. Apparently he couldn't sleep either. There was something about the man that always put Gavin on edge. It was something just beyond his vision, something dark and dangerous. He had never had the courage to ask about it, to find out if he was finally going insane or if it had something to do with his curse. He hadn't said who he was before and he had avoided talking about it to Gavin. Everyone seemed to know about it but him, though he had only been with the group since the pass.

"So you're still up as well?" Gavin started. He didn't know when Ryan had noticed him. As far as he knew the man hadn't moved at all from his position. There was something about his voice that he didn't like. It didn't sound like Ryan, though he didn't know why. It wasn't... happy enough. That was saying something, since he rarely sounded sincerely happy. It just didn’t sound like Ryan, and Gavin didn’t like it.

"Yes..." he said cautiously, not sure how to answer the person that may or may not be Ryan. He didn't move, though Gavin could tell there was something wrong. His shoulders were hunched and his feet braced, as if fighting something Gavin couldn't see.

There was a shuffle next to him and suddenly Geoff was up, walking over to Ryan. Gavin wasn't sure how to interpret the look on his face. It was one part the protective look of a father and one part defensive and he could have sworn he saw a flash of anger. "Ryan," he said firmly, making the man turn around. The only thing Gavin had time to process was the fact that the man was absolutely not the man he had come to know. His face was a scowl the second his eyes found Geoff.

"Calm down," he ground out, his hand wandering where Gavin assumed a sword usually was, though he couldn't recall Ryan ever having a sword. It was usually just that huge staff of his. "He's asleep."

Geoff's face only relaxed marginally. He looked like he was still ready to tackle the man to the ground if he had to. Gavin was just confused. The veteran walked up to the man, glaring directly at the eyes that didn't seem to be as light as Ryan's. If Gavin didn't know any better he would have said they looked black. "You know what happens if you try anything funny. And if you're lying, if you're doing something to him, then rest assured, I won't leave you alone next time."

The man made a face. "I get it, alright? No touching the thief. You don't need to be so defensive." The man paused for a moment. "You haven't even known him for a month, and yet you treat him almost like a son. Why?"

"Because he needs someone to."

-.-

The next day he knew something had happened. Even though he had fallen asleep he could still feel when the king came out. He didn't seem to have any negative emotions swirling around, so he hadn't woken up to stop him. He let him do what he would, only vaguely aware of the drowsiness of his body when they set out the next day, thanking the family for having them for the night.

"What was all that last night about?" Gavin asked the second they were out of hearing range of the house. He didn’t look like he particularly wanted to ask, but his curiosity had obviously won.

Ryan sighed. He wasn't sure if he would be able to explain it. It had been lucky the first time, fueled by a nightmare and a moment of clarity to get his point across to Geoff and Jack. _I could do it_ , offered the king. It was a strange thing, not being afraid of him anymore. Sure, there was always the chance that he could hurt someone but then again Geoff had proven that he was more than a match for the king. It was one of the things he wasn’t afraid of, which was good, because he had grown tired of the king being a menacing presence.

_Just don't hurt anyone_ , he thought before he felt the familiar sense of falling and suddenly it was the king walking instead of the man they had come to know.

The creeper was still waiting for an answer. He stared intently at the king, trying to find out what had happened. The fact that he noticed the transition probably wasn't much to be worried about, considering the thief was so different then he was. If any of the others turned around they would undoubtedly notice in an instant. He probably recognized him from the previous night. He had enjoyed messing with him. Too bad the knight had put an end to their fun. "Remember what I said before about the curse turning me into someone else?" It was strange, talking as if he was the thief. For now he would have to. It wouldn’t do to drive his friends away. He wondered why he cared. He was the thief, the one that had taken his body when he finally reached immortality. Maybe it wasn’t his fault. It was a curse, after all. Maybe he would have been content with never existing. He would have to ask to ever be certain. At the creeper's nod he continued. "Well, to put it lightly, the man I was didn't exactly disappear. There is a lot to be said on the subject of human determination."

"Who were you before then?" There was a moment of silence where the creeper looked like he was weighing his next words. "And who are you now?"

He grinned, eliciting a flinch from the creeper. "I'm the Mad King. I don't believe we've been properly introduced." He could feel the eyes of the others on him, watching closely for any reason to stop him from talking to the creeper. He stuck his hand out, and he all but squawked. It seemed the creeper had a vague idea of who the Mad King was. He would have the most fun messing with this one.

He took the outstretched hand with some hesitation. "What about Ryan?"

"What about me?" He asked, noticing that he was holding Gavin's hand. There was an audible sigh of relief from the rest of their party. He was almost positive the king hadn't done anything wrong, but then again his presence was usually enough to make anyone nervous. He didn’t blame them. Gavin just stayed silent, messing with his gloves. The forest loomed ever closer and he knew it was time to enter the last leg of their journey. He almost didn’t want it to end. “Alright. Stay close and don’t mess with anything or anyone that you see sleeping.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Ray asked, looking slightly concerned.

“You’ll find out.”


	6. Haven't you taken enough from me? Won't you torture someone else's sleep?

"Someone's in the forest." He looked up sharply. That was far from good news. Sure, it didn't make a difference to him if there was another idiot king searching for his doom, but it mattered then. It mattered because they were the only two living beings in the forest. If they were competent enough with a sword they could very well cause an inconvenience. And, if there was an immortal in the group, there was the very real possibility that he would be dead before the sun set. He didn't feel like dying.

"Who were they?" He asked. If they headed towards their usual residence then he might have to do something about it. He never liked killing people, but if it was unavoidable he would have no choice. She contemplated that question for a moment too long. "Lindsay!"

"Sorry! Ok, there was one guy with a black cloak, two with armor, and one that had a creeper themed outfit and... there was one more I think." Her face was scrunched in concentration, her wings bobbing up and down.

He sighed. He should never trust Lindsay with recon, especially not on her bad days. Those days, she put the phrase bird brain to shame. On her best days it was almost like it used to be, before the castle and before the revolt. It was before their curse and the king that managed to torment him from beyond the grave. Today was in-between, though it wasn’t any better. It was like a game, a horrible game that they couldn’t win. The game of Will I Still Be Me Tomorrow? It caused many sleepless nights and even more worries to carry through the day. "I'm so glad that I know the color of their clothes."

"They weren't saying anything! What do you want me to do? Read their minds?" Her feathers were ruffled and she looked agitated. She was having a hard time controlling her curse. He was too, which was why he was lashing out so harshly. He hoped it wasn’t affecting her that badly. It was easier for him. It was fighting against unfamiliar emotions, fighting against anger and hatred. It was easy for him, though the same couldn’t be said for Lindsay. For her, it was fighting an absent mind; it was fighting to keep her train of thought. It scared her beyond belief. Lindsay sighed and stepped closer to him, her fingers tracing across the scars on his face. They were an ugly reminder of what would happen if he ever let his curse get the better of him. A bear was leagues more dangerous than a bird. "I just... want it to be the way it was, you know?"

He wasn't unfamiliar with this conversation. He had initiated it almost as much as she had. It was the age old discussion of when will this be over? When will we be able to live again? As if it would ever end, short of their deaths. "Yeah, I do."

"If you hadn't gone through with that stupid plan of yours... if you'd have just let the king rule for a few more years, do you think it would have been different? Do you think we could have had a life? A family?" He knew he shouldn't interrupt her, so he only nodded. If he hadn’t gone through with his plan he wasn’t sure what would have happened. Maybe there would have still been a kingdom to rule. Maybe there would have been a happy life for them. Maybe it would have ended the same way, only with a different man cursed and exiled. "Do you think we'll ever get rid of this curse?" Her hands were fists and more and more feathers were sprouting from her back. She was upset, more so then usual. "I'm tired, Michael. I'm so tired of this. Why do we have to live like this? I'm tired of the silence; I'm tired of fighting the thing inside me. I'm tired of having to spend every waking moment making sure I'm still me, and not some mindless pile of feathers. I'm tired and I'm scared. I'm scared of the future, because I know we can't continue on like this. I can't fight forever, Michael."

He didn't like the defeated tone in her voice. He didn't want to agree with her. He couldn't just tell her that someday it would be her or him. An immortal could kill an immortal, but in doing so would doom them to a life alone. He couldn't ever do that to Lindsay but he couldn't kill her, either. He felt the beast stirring inside him, urging him to just destroy everything, anything that makes him think, makes him feel. Urging him to give up being Michael and become a mindless beast with no drive but to kill. He could never do it, though there were times when the beast got out, when he was less a man and more a bear. It was a good thing that the forest had no wildlife. He couldn't tell her that she was being silly, that there was no way she would be anything other than Lindsay, and that they would figure out a way to live a normal life again. He wanted to tell her, but he couldn't lie to her or himself. "I can't either," he settled on saying. "But we'll have to."

They were interrupted by the sound of footsteps and murmuring. Lindsay chirped in fear, her wings taking her up to the tops of the trees, far away from any danger. Michael was left alone, feeling his teeth grow sharper and his nails become claws. There was a moment were he thought the beast would come out, but he stopped it just in time to see a group of people come into view, the leader bearing a face he knew. The face of the man who did this to him.

The beast broke through his restraints and he lunged at the man, rage blocking out his vision.

-.-

The forest was silent. The leaves below their feet crunched, dead and brown more often than not. There was no shifting through leaves and there were no animals to be seen. Around the outside of the forest there had been spiders and skeletons but the farther in they went the less frequent they were. He was sure they would pass the point where no monsters dared to go eventually, if they hadn’t already. He fingered the amulet he had given the rest of the party. He had explained to everyone that it would protect them from the parts of the curse that would be able to get past his enchantments. He was nothing if not thorough, though he wished he was able to stop the curse altogether. He felt a spark of excitement, the journey was almost over. _But then again_ , he thought sadly, _the journey is almost over_. As they walked no one dared talk. The silence was too permanent, too thick to think of breaking it.

They didn't offer to talk so he didn't. He led the way, his plaid cloak swinging in the wind generated by his movement. There was no natural wind in the forest. It was still, eerily so. He had been there before, though only briefly, enough to remember the oppressive atmosphere and the feeling that you weren’t supposed to talk. He stopped suddenly, spotting something red in the trees. No one said anything but everyone stared at the bird perched above them in the trees. It was all bright hues, reds and oranges and yellows. It stuck out like a sore thumb in the dark greys and greens of the trees. "Is that one of the things you told us not to go near, Ryan?" Geoff asked.

"No. It’s not sleeping and it's… alive," he said in surprise, just as it took flight. It wasn't a wraith, it wasn't a sleeping ghost. It was alive, untouched by the forest's curse. There was something about the bird that seemed familiar. It wasn’t familiar to him, though. He found his feet taking him in the direction the bird had flown, hearing the king whisper to him. _That isn't a bird. It's an immortal. Their curse transformed them into an animal, a Phoenix. I engineered it myself._  He felt Geoff grab his arm, stopping him and banishing the king.

"What do you mean 'it's alive'?"

"I mean it's not dead, it's not asleep, not doomed to wander through the trees as a spirit hell bent on capturing anything living and forcing it through what it's experiencing. It's not a sleeping ghost, it's an immortal."

That seemed to floor most of them. Ray didn't look too surprised, though he rarely ever did. "A bird is immortal?" Gavin asked, scratching his head. He yelped when his gloves burned away and set to work replacing them immediately.

"No, dumbass. It's a person. Or was, before their curse." It was more the king who said it, but Ryan's sentiments were similar. He made up his mind. "We have to follow them."

No one objected. They understood how important it was for Ryan. He had never seen another immortal, though he knew of the immortals killing immortals lore. He felt like he needed to find the bird again, and he felt a burning anger blazing hotter than anything he'd ever felt coming from the king. It was so sudden that he had to stop. The king knew who the bird was, or, more importantly, who the one the bird was going to was. _Let me do it, let me kill him. He took my kingdom away from me he needs to pay. He killed me he killed you I need to find him I needtokillhimhe'shurtmeheburnedme._ The king was freaking out and he couldn't focus with him screaming in his head. He sank to the ground, pressing his hands to his ears, though it did no good. _He'satraitoramurdererhiscurseisn'tpunishmentenough._ "Stop," he said, though he already felt the black creeping into his vision. "Stop! You're too loud I can't hear myself think!"

 _Hekilledmehekilledmehe_ killedme _._

Someone shouted his name from somewhere far away. Ryan made a last attempt to calm the king, though it did no good. He couldn't think. He had to kill him. He had torn it away, all that he had worked for. He had taken away his kingdom, he had taken away everything. His curse wasn't punishment enough, he had to die. He struggled to his feet, fighting the thief for control. Around him the thief's friends stepped back, drawings their weapons. "Hekilledmehekilledmehe _killed_ me."

"Ryan," he heard the knight shout.

"He killed me, he killed the thief, he took away our kingdom. He took away all I worked for." He felt something in his stomach, a distant pain blooming through his chest. It wasn't enough to bring him back, the thief struggling weakly, trying to stop him. He felt his life escaping him, blood splashing across the dirt, being soaked up like water. He felt himself blink out of existence for a moment, only to reappear again, a few feet away from the group.

Ryan blinked. He felt the king thrashing, trying to break through. He was weaker, though not enough to make it safe. The king’s rants and unintelligible mumblings were melding together, slowly lowering in volume and decreasing in speed. It was almost at the point where he could understand what the king was saying. He walked back over to his friends, who whipped around to look at him like he was a ghost. It was the first time experiencing an immortal’s death. Their weapons were drawn and Geoff's was covered in what he assumed was blood. His blood. He grimaced, feeling the king only get louder, backtracking on all the progress he had made in calming him down.

"Are you alright, Ryan?" Gavin asked, unfamiliar with the king's mannerisms. Truth be told, this was new to Ryan as well. Something terrible must have happened between the king and whoever the bird was going to for him to lash out like that. _The bear. He took my kingdom. He pushed you into hell. He exiled us. He killed us. So I punished him. Him and the bird._

The king had calmed down somewhat, though the hatred was still burning. Ryan remembered, though. The youth with the curled hair and the bear helm. The one that yelled and cheered at his demise. The king remembered it just as well. Back then the crack between them had been only that, a crack. They were still more or less the same person at that point, though now they most certainly were not. "I'm fine. I can't say the same of the king, though." He harbored no ill will against the youth, though it was hard to tell if he still felt that way, with the king's emotions overpowering his own.

"What happened? Why did he freak out like that?"

"We need to find that bird," he said, though he knew he shouldn't. It was the king's emotions again, causing him to lust for revenge that he didn't want, stirring up hatred in a fire with no kindling. The group looked like they wanted to complain, but they didn't. Their weapons were still out, Ryan noticed.

"Alright, but when you do you owe us an explanation," Jack demanded. And with that they were off, going the direction the bird had flown.

As they went Ryan felt the king regain more and more of his strength. That wasn't a good thing. They pushed through the leaves, searching for a flash of red or orange. They didn't find anything until they pushed into a clearing, seeing a flash of red fly away and a deep throated growling coming from in front of them. Ryan looked, seeing a face scarred and hair curled and the person who had pushed him into the nether standing in front of him. He felt the king surge forth, and there was no room for argument or protests as Ryan fell away, leaving the king to do as he would.

A bear lunged forward, meeting with a sword that the king had taken from the knight. The bear snarled, quickly overpowering the king and forcing him back. He lowered the sword, using the bear's momentum to send him sailing. Suddenly it wasn't a bear, but the man from before, his hands transfigured into claws gripped tightly around a blue bladed sword. He rand forward, stabbing and slashing and dodging. The king matched every swing, his anger propelling the blade through the air. It was clear that they were an even match, though the fight was interrupted by two pairs of hands gripping his arms, two more restraining the bear.

"Stop it, assholes!" the knight roared, standing between them and glaring. They both shrunk from the powerful voice, and he slowly lowered his arm. He was stuck, though. No letting the thief back out. He had accidentally trapped him in a nightmare for the time being. "You," he pointed at the bear. "Who are you?"

"Who am _I_?" He snarled, struggling against Jack and Ray. "Who are _you_? Do you even know who that is?" He waved his arm vaguely at the king. "He's the one that did this to me! He's the one that cursed me like this!"

"You did it to yourself!" The king yelled at him. If he couldn't fight with swords he would use words instead. "You didn't have to steal my kingdom, you didn't have to kill me!"

"I SAID QUIET," the knight shouted. He looked about ready to bind their mouths shut. "I don't give a rat’s ass what happened. I asked you a question, now answer it."

The bear looked down at the ground. He didn't look sorry, though he answered the knight's question anyways. "I'm Michael."

The knight sighed heavily. "It's like dealing with children," he muttered. He turned to the king. "Ryan?" He asked hopefully. He shook his head. "Well, will you not fly off the handle?"

"If I do you'll just stop me again." He felt the hands fall away at the knight's nod. He glanced back, seeing the creeper and a woman clad in feathers hued all sorts of reds and oranges. She was the phoenix. She ran over to the bear as soon as she was sure he wouldn't try to hurt him again. The king felt the thief recovering. He quickly shoved him to the forefront.

Ryan glanced around him. Something had happened, probably having to do with the king and the bear. _Michael_ , he helpfully provided. Geoff glanced over at him, a smile breaking into his tired face when he noticed it was Ryan and not the king. Michael still looked livid, though he had calmed down somewhat. His gaze drifted to the sword hanging limply by the man's side. "Oh," he muttered. "You have my sword."

Michael looked at him strangely. He seemed to have noticed the change. "It's not your sword. At least, not anymore." He was trying to get a reaction from him. He was trying to egg on the king. It worked, though he was too weak to even say anything. When nothing happened his expression turned to one of confusion. "Aren't you supposed to be completely insane or something?"

"Nah." He walked over, noticing Michael flinch a bit when he stuck his hand out. Despite himself he smiled. "Pleasure to meet you. I'm Ryan."

He took it hesitantly. He looked beyond confused. "What?"

"Well, you have your curse and I have mine. He calls himself the Mad King."


	7. The trick to life is not to get too attached to it

 By the time they started towards the stronghold they had gained another two members. This time, though, they were only coming along to escape the forest. They were done and tired of it, of the days only being marked by the change of the seasons, of having no idea what was going on outside their bubble. "We're coming with you," Lindsay had insisted. She had made it clear that they were not allowed to leave them behind. They were coming, and that was final. Michael looked like he wanted to protest, but he hadn't. He still snuck glances back at Ryan every so often. Ray had a feeling that he had his own reasons for coming.

"You know," he said, catching the man's attention, "You don't have to worry about Ryan." It wasn’t like he would just let the king out for the hell of it, and the king had gotten better about his emotions. He had gone from a semi defined, angry entity to someone who had trouble regulating their emotions. They had gotten so much better in the time Ray had known them. Maybe it was because Ryan had stopped trying to ignore him and had worked on dealing with him.

"You're Ray, right?" He knew what the answer was, though he was asking anyways. This wouldn’t end well.

"That would be me, yes." He wasn’t sure where Michael was going with this. Maybe it would end up with the man having a black eye to show for his ‘curiosity.’ Ray was almost certain he was just being a prick that couldn’t let go of the past.

"No offense, but how do you know he's not lying?" Ray frowned. He didn’t like the tone in the man’s voice. It was the tone of someone who was lost in their own delusions, unable to catch up with the present. He was still stuck in the time when the king was a danger, unable to be trusted. Maybe it had something to do with his curse.

"I don't, at least not for sure.” He decided to ignore the glance Michael sent back at Ryan. “But I have more than enough reason to believe he's telling the truth. And you really need to stop doing that."

“Doing what?” As if he didn’t know.

“You need to stop acting like you need to be on guard every second of every day. No one here is going to hurt you. Ryan’s a good person. He wouldn’t do shit to you. You need to calm the fuck down and act like a normal person.” At that point they had fallen behind the group. Ray was holding him back, a hand on his shoulder. “You have no excuse to be so untrusting. If anything, we have every right to leave you here. You attacked first, after all.”

He left Michael standing there, contemplating his words. He caught up with the group, Gavin shooting him a curious glance. “What was that, Ray? It looks like you right pissed him off.”

He just shrugged. “He needed it. Living away from anyone that would call you out on your bullshit isn’t an excuse. Ryan did it for a while, but he’s got us, so that ended quickly. Just give him a while, he’ll come around.”

-.-

Eventually they made it. They made it through the trees and the oppressive atmosphere of the forest. They made it to the end of their journey, or, at least what felt like the end. They had found the stronghold, a half buried building covered in moss and lichen. They stood in front of it for a moment, some of them unable to believe that it was almost over. After all they had gone through they were finally done.

For Lindsay, however, her adventure was only beginning. After so long she was finally getting out of the forest. She was finally going to be able to see people rushing about and animals living their lives (or maybe it was the other way around). She was going to escape; she was going to live again. It had been so long she had all but forgotten what life outside the forest was like. It was so easy to lose herself in the leaves and trees. Maybe this was the chance to get away from her curse once and for all. She glanced over at Michael, punching him lightly on the shoulder when she saw that he wasn't paying attention.

"So," Ray said loudly, startling most of the group, "What's the plan?"

"We need to find the portal first and foremost," Ryan started to explain. He seemed to have a good idea of what they needed to do. "Make sure there are no monsters, though I doubt there will be this far into the forest. When we find the portal we have to activate it. If it already has enough Ender pearls then it will be active when we get there. When we get through the portal we'll be in the End, the domain of the Endermen. The fountain is located in a courtyard inside the End's castle, though with luck the portal will drop us near or inside the castle. From there we will escape through the same portal as before, though failing that a nether portal should work just as well." He shuddered at the last part. He probably had bad experiences with the nether, though that was to be expected when he had been trapped there for years.

"Alright. That seems doable." Gavin still looked nervous, though. Lindsay wandered over to him and patted him lightly on the shoulder, saying something along the lines of "It'll be fine, creeper-boy." She wasn't really sure. It wasn’t like she had a lot of experience with pep talks.

With that they all started walking, stepping into the damp interior of the stronghold. It was covered in all sorts of plants and the stones were mostly cracked. It lacked any cobwebs because no spider lived as deep in the forest as they were. Every room had something new to look at and Lindsay found herself sidetracked. There were fountains and passageways and even a cell block. She saw Ryan in the library, shoving books into his bag. "Hello!" She greeted him, almost making him drop the book he was flipping through. She didn't give much thought to the strange shift in his eye color- from an inky black to a bright blue- or the fact that he didn't seem to know where he was. She did that sometimes as well. Not the eye thing, the other one.

"Hi," he said slowly. "You're Lindsay, right?"

"Yep! That would be me! You're the one Michael always talks about, right?"

"Well, technically no. I'm Ryan. The person you're talking about is the king." He was nervously shifting his feet. He seemed nice enough. She wasn’t sure why Michael was always so angry and untrusting around him. Well, he did have trouble moving forwards. Lindsay looked at him expectantly. "What?" Ryan finally asked.

"Aren't you going to introduce him?"

Ryan blanched at that. She wasn't sure why. It was normal to ask for an introduction. At least the was almost certain it was. It had been a while since she needed to. He picked at the corners of his cloak, contemplating her request. "Alright," he finally said. Suddenly his whole demeanor changed. He stood up taller, his face settled into something that wasn't quite a scowl but was far from a smile. What Lindsay had passed off as a trick of the light proved to be more than that when his eyes suddenly changed from blue to black. It all happened in under a second and Lindsay smiled.

"Hello," she said again, "It's nice to meet you!"

The king looked a bit confused. It seemed that he wasn't used to such an energetic greeting being directed to him. "Um... hi?" He tried. Lindsay decided to let it pass. It probably wasn't every day that someone specifically asked to meet him. "I'm the king... but I guess you already knew that."

Lindsay smiled. "It's alright, you don't have to stay and talk if you don't want to." She wasn’t going to force him through something he didn’t want to do. He would come around eventually. The king looked at her thankfully before he disappeared, leaving Ryan in his place. Before either of them could continue their conversation Gavin came running into the library.

"Geoff found it. The portal, I mean. He says it's nearly completed and Ray has the extra Ender eyes. We need to get back there, and fast."

Soon enough their feet were pounding against the stone, leading them to a room with a ring of strange white stone suspended above a pit of lava. Its middle was a swirling black mass and Lindsay knew in an instant that they weren't getting out of wherever the portal led unscathed. But that was fine. They gathered around the portal's edge, everyone making sure that they had everything they would need. They all looked exceedingly nervous. "It'll be alright," she said. "I know that it's scary, but you'll make it through. It's too late to turn back now; after all you've been through. A curse isn't that bad if there's someone to ease the pain." She smiled, glancing over at Michael and lacing her fingers through his. With that she stepped forward, falling through the portal and into an unknown destination.

-.-

The castle was always cold. Not that it mattered much, because dragons never felt the cold. Their fire was enough to keep them warm, even in the depths of winter. The walls were dark stone, smooth and unblemished. The ground was white End stone, carved to depict the End's history. There was the scene of the First Dragon's birth, and of the Dragon Knight, his favorite story. It was the tale of the dragon that had created the rift between the End and the Overworld. He had protected the End from humans and the monsters that inhabited their world. It was Kdin's favorite story, the adventures and the heroes and the sacrifices. Sure, it had a sad ending, but that was alright. He loved all stories, the sad and happy ones. As if to prove this, his room was covered in books and carvings, telling as many stories as possible in the space given.

There was a knock on his door and he quickly closed the book he was reading. "Come in," he said, careful not to let them hear him cry. It wasn't anything to cry about, anyways. He kept telling himself so, but it didn’t seem to work. His eyes were still wet and his throat raw.

A soldier entered, the armor around his body eating away at the light in the castle. The dragonglass candles didn't seem to illuminate him at all. But that was how the soldiers always looked, so he gave it no mind. "Your parents sent for you. You must go your highness. It is your coronation, after all."

He didn't like to hear anyone say it. Sure, it was an exceedingly exciting time for him, but he still dreaded it. When the King (or Queen) of the End stepped down, they held a ceremony where the immortal ruler's respawn was reversed and postponed, resulting in a new King and a rebirth for the former one. It was a day of celebration, for one day the King would come and rule again, though they would only regain their memories through the waters of the fountain. "Let me get dressed first. I will be out soon."

He was just finishing pulling on his black half cape, clasping it around his throat, the metal crafted to look like an Ender eye, when there was a strange sound, something akin to whispering, coming from his wall. Never one to be cautious, he followed his ear to a wall clear of bookshelves and any other decorations. He strained his ears, trying to tell what was being said. He only pulled back when the wall fell away, leaving a swirling black portal. It looked like an Ender portal, and Kdin rushed over to the far side of the room, crouching behind his bed. He peeked over just in time to see seven people- humans- fall through. Three of them he was almost certain were something a bit more, four if he counted the creeper. One of them had their own shadow, and not in a way that seemed natural. It swirled and moved of its own accord, independent of the candles burning around the room. Two seemed to have the attributes of animals, one a bear and one a bird.

They stumbled to their feet, glancing around, trying to figure out where they were. "So," said the creeper, shivering from the cold, "I guess we made it."

"It looks like it but... I don't know where exactly we are." The one with the strange shadow looked around, his eyes dancing over every surface. When he reached the bed Kdin jerked his head down, hoping they hadn't seen him. He heard a gasp, and suddenly he remembered that his wings were much too big to hide behind a bed. "I don't think we're alone."

There was a beat of silence. If they weren't going to make the first move then he would. He poked his head over the bed. The first thing he noticed was that one of the members looked oddly familiar. "Do I know you?" was the first thing out of his mouth. He would have to learn to filter his speech if he was to be King. The man dressed in dark green armor, the man with the heavy lidded eyes and paintings all across his arms only looked at him strangely. He wasn't sure if it was because of his question or because of his appearance. "Yeah, I know I've seen you before." The more he said it the more he knew it to be true.

"I- I don't-?" The man stuttered. Yeah, he was definitely shocked by his appearance. It wasn't every day someone met a dragon for the first time. Kdin squinted trying to pinpoint just where he had seen that face before.

"Oh!" He exclaimed, causing everyone present to jump. "I know who you are! You're the First King!" When he didn't respond to the name with anything more than a confused look his smile dropped. The First King, the builder that was said to have created the kingdoms. He was the subject of many books and even more studies. It was a shame that the only proof of his existence was in the Overworld. He stood up, rushing over to one of his books, one of the few illustrated accounts of the First King’s rule. He flipped through the pages, looking for the right one. Before long he was shoving it in the man’s face. “See? You look just like him.”

His face was shocked for a split second before it turned to something akin to disbelief. It seemed that humans weren’t used to the concept of rebirth. It was a well-known fact in the End that the First King chose to die, rather than have his rule disrupted and his kingdom shattered. Because of that humans never got around to resenting him for his immortality. They didn’t start hating him for being able to wield the powers of the Builders with practiced ease. Instead, they only forgot, as they always did. The ruler that took his place had been the ancestor of the Mad King, a figure that Kdin had always found interesting. It was strange that his castle had been empty; it was strange that no one knew for sure what happened to him. It was a mystery what happened to the Wild King, though many people said it was the work of the Mad King’s vengeful spirit. There was a knock on the door and everyone, including him, jumped. “Oh shit, right. Um… _shit,_ ok, just… hide somewhere, I have to go.” Just before he opened the door he glanced back. “Oh, and the fountain is down the hall, take a left, and you can hear the courtyard from there. If you make it, and I hope you will, then my theory will either be proven or disproven. Also, try not to destroy my kingdom when you remember, thanks.”

The knight from before was standing in the hallway, a statue ready to take him to his parents and the court. He gulped, and he knew there was no going back. The surprise visit had made him forget for a while what awaited him. But now the anxiety was back, the pressure to be as great a ruler as his parents had been. He followed the knight through the familiar hallways, the ones he had played in as a child, long before he had to worry about ruling a kingdom. They only stopped at a set of huge double doors, histories carved into its surface. He took a deep breath and walked through to his future.

The next few hours tripped by in a matter of moments. His parents gave their speech, the one that said something about how they wished their kingdom the best, the one that said that Kdin was going to be alone. They said their goodbyes, smiling all the while. He supposed after living so long the notion of death had ceased to frighten them. It wasn’t like it was going to be permanent, either. They would return to their rule soon enough, when the End had learned from its mistakes and they could provide wisdom from the past. They would be back soon, he told himself, it isn’t forever. But still, he couldn’t keep the tears away.

When the time came for their death he was given the opportunity to leave. He was given the opportunity to have the last memory of his parents to be one of celebration, of a happy gathering of lifelong friends. No one would blame him; it was a hard thing to face up to. In a way it was worse than the unexpected death of a loved one. But in the end he chose to stay. He stayed, and the last time his father met his eyes, a smile was on his face and for the first time Kdin felt that he could be strong enough to rule if his father was strong enough to die.

When the crown was placed on his head he knew his time of being Kdin was over. He had to be the figurehead of the kingdom now, of all that they represented, of all the bad decisions made. When the waters of the End were poured over his head and he started to remember all his past lives he knew that he would be able to rule. He had been the Dragon Knight; he had lived through the worse times and managed to pull the kingdom together again. He had been a great ruler before and he could do it again.

He almost forgot about his visitors in the midst of the celebration. He almost forgot, but the explosion that rocked the castle was enough to jog his memory.

_Well_ , the new Ender King thought, _it seems I was right._


	8. You can't see past the worst case scenario

As soon as the dragon left they were forced to make a decision. It was a decision made easier by the fact that they had been given directions directly to their destination, but a decision they had to mutually agree on nonetheless. "Well," Ryan finally said, "I did not expect to end up so close. And I definitely didn't expect anyone to recognize you, Geoff." He lied, unbeknownst to everyone else present.

The aforementioned man glanced up from the book he was leafing through. He had not been paying much attention, not that it mattered. "What? Oh, yeah, right." It was so strange. Sure, he had been met with many strange things in his lifetime made to look short by the three immortals present, but this one was bigger than any he had ever experienced before. The person depicted in the books did look like him, albeit warped to fit the artist’s style. The farther he read the more confused he was. How could he have lived hundreds, maybe thousands of years before and not remember any of it? It made his head hurt just thinking of it. Maybe it was a giant misunderstanding. That thought took some of the stress off it.

"Yeah, what was all that about, Geoff?" Gavin asked, peeking over his shoulder at the book. "Bloody hell, that does look like you, doesn't it?"

He slammed it shut, startling Gavin. He stood, startling everyone else with his abrupt actions. It was past time to move on. The dragon seemed to think that the fountain would answer their questions. If that was true then that was where he would go. If it proved that the fountain would not, in fact, answer their questions then he had an entire history to leaf through. "Move out," he said, loud enough to get his point across. Everyone stood and before long they were in a long hallway, abandoned but for the carved faces of who he assumed were the old rulers of the End. Their obsidian eyes seemed to follow them down the halls, the way the dragon had told them to go. It wasn't long before they heard the sound of rushing water.

The courtyard was open, the castle’s roof stopping at the sky. At least he assumed it was the sky. It was a pitch black mass, showing no signs of anything but an endless expanse of nothing. It was different from what he was used to, that was for sure. He expected to see flowers, plants, trees, anything. There were skeletons of plants carved from obsidian twisting and turning, grasping at the dark sky. There were flowers, in a way. They were chips of all sorts of gemstones, fused together and poking through the ground. Some were in vases while others were tucked away in the bramble of broken pieces of rock that looked vaguely like bushes. Roses, tulips, poppy, any flower he could think to name was there. There were wormwoods made from chips of emerald and thistle so small he wondered how a single breath of wind hadn’t shattered it. He saw Ray shove a ruby rose into his pocket.

In the center was the fountain, the water flowing through it nearly as black as the sky, though this time it was dotted with small white spots, what looked like stars in a clear night sky. At first no one dared to talk. After all this time they were finally there, finally in front of the object they had been searching for. Ray was the first one to step forwards. "So how does this work? Do I drink it? Touch it? You need to give me an idea of what to do here, Ryan."

"Any of those should work. I think it just has to know that you want it."

"Wow, alright. That's kind of creepy but who am I to judge?" With that he stuck his arm in, soaking his sleeve with the strange black water. There was a beat of silence. Geoff didn’t realize he had been holding his breath until he started feeling lightheaded.

"Well, did it work?" Gavin asked cautiously.

"I- I don't feel so good..." He noticed that Ray was shaking. His hands flew to his stomach and he turned around. Geoff stepped back in surprise. He was a pasty white, color slowly draining out of him piece by piece. His initial reaction was to panic, to worry and fret. If Ray was hurting then it was his responsibility to help him. Why wasn’t he moving, then?

Ryan was the first to act, easing him to the ground. "It's his curse," he quickly explained. "It's different for everyone, though I've never heard of one like this. You three, hurry it up."

Gavin looked like he was rethinking his decision but Geoff pushed him forward. "Go on, lad. It's too late now."

He stared into the fountain for a moment before he slowly lowered his hand into it, yelping when the water around his hand started to boil. "What the hell was that?" He asked, though it came out as a series of hisses and clicks. Geoff blinked, looking at Jack for confirmation that he had heard correctly. He was met with a mirror image of his own face, that is to say, confused beyond belief. When he looked back at Gavin he almost jumped. His mutation had, for want of a better word, spread. What had just been a splash of green patches on his face had grown to cover most of it, making it hard to find any place truly free of the markings. His eyes had changed too, though only on the outside. There were dark marks around his eyes, making it look reminiscent to a creeper. "What the hell happened to my voice?" He hissed, trying to make it sound human again.

"I'm not sure, but I think you're a creeper now. At least more so then you used to be." Gavin looked stricken at that. Michael could have phrased it a bit more pleasantly, though it did get his point across. Geoff glanced over at Jack. It was either him or the carpenter next.

In the end it was Jack who stepped forward. His hand went in and nothing happened. “Well,” Jack said, a little confused, “Either I didn’t get a curse or it’s taking a while to set in.” He was rubbing a hand over his arms. “Actually… I think I know what it is. It certainly is ironic, I’ll say that.” Upon closer inspection Geoff noticed that the skin around Jack’s arm had begun to turn a shade darker, not to mention a bit rougher. Like the bark on a tree. Geoff couldn’t help but laugh.

It was his turn so he stepped forward. When his hand hit the water for a split second it was the coldest thing he had ever felt. It was so cold it was almost burning. When he tried to pull it out he discovered that his muscles weren’t responding. He couldn’t move. He was rooted to the spot, feeling the cold slowly envelop him. Colors danced in front of his eyes and he felt like his head was going to explode. It felt like it should have hurt but it didn’t, at least not in a way he could comprehend. He tried to figure out where he was, if any time had passed. It seemed like it would never end. It hadn’t been so bad for the others, had it? They didn’t mention it lasting so long, but then again there hadn’t been much time. All of a sudden the pain came through again, though this time it burst out of him, causing what sounded like an explosion.

-.-

When his hand had broken the surface of the water he felt as if his joints would never function again. It had only been a second, but it had still happened. It left him with bark on his arm and the feeling that it would continue on. He backed up, moving to check on Ray. He crouched down, lifting the man's face to see if he was getting better. His heart sank when it was clear that it was only getting worse. "Ray," he said firmly. There was no response. "Ray, I need you to look at me." This time the man's eyes moved, if only a little, to stare at Jack. "How do you feel?"

"Like I'm dying." He said it with such conviction that Jack was stunned for a second. He was prevented from asking anymore questions, however, by a shout from Gavin, though it was more of a hiss.

"Bloody hell, I think something's wrong with Geoff." Jack's eyes found their way to the aforementioned man, only to blink rapidly, trying to comprehend what he was seeing. A pale blue light was slowly gathering around him, growing in intensity with every second. Jack wasn't sure what to make of it, but he knew it was nothing good.

"Get back in the hallway," he shouted, picking up Ray, for it was obvious that he wouldn't be able to move on his own. They had just made it out of the way of the courtyard before they heard a resounding explosion, though it didn't seem to affect the area around them. That was good at least. He felt Ray slowly loose his grip, falling down to the ground, hard.

"Fuck," he said dully. "That hurt."

"Are you alright, Ray?" Jack cautioned to ask. He looked terrible.

"I told you," he said in a borderline monotone voice, "I feel like I'm dying. No, actually, you know what? I feel like I'm dead."

There was a resounding clattering of armored feet on the strange white stone that made up the floor. Jack, frantically trying to think of what to do, told the members of his party to stay there for a moment. He peeked into the courtyard just in time to see pitch black figures tying what looked like chains made up of the empty sky around Geoff, who still retained the same strange blue aura, though now it was diluted and weak. "Hey!" shouted one of the guards, "There's another one!" Jack started, sprinting as fast as he could back to the group.

"We have to leave, like right now." He glanced at Ray, noticing that his eyes had closed. Jack bent down to pick him up, only to find that his chest lacked a certain rhythm. That is to say, his heart wasn't beating. "Michael, what happens when you die? Or you, Ryan."

He looked startled at the question, and a little bit confused. Ryan looked similarly. "I don't see what this has to do with leaving-"

"Just answer the question!" Jack snapped.

"In the rare possibility that I do die, I get resurrected in the closest spot clear of danger. My... body goes with me." At this point he had caught on to what was happening. "Oh shit, do you think it didn't work?"

"I don't know," Jack muttered, picking Ray up and beginning to run. "Either way we need to get out of here."

They sprinted down the hall, finding the room they had previously left. They heard a trample of feet and suddenly it was over. He sighed in relief, sinking to the ground, his heart still pounding. "Um..." he heard Ryan mutter, "Jack, I think you lost Ray."

Jack jerked up, frantically looking around for the man. He had no such luck, seeing only the other four members. Gavin looked stricken, Michael looked stunned, Lindsay was looking anywhere but where she should be and Ryan looked livid. "How do you just loose Ray? I mean I get that he's a skinny prick but you were holding him, you were carrying him. You should have noticed when you weren't holding anything anymore!"

Jack would have retaliated with an equally angry comeback, how it was hard to focus when you were running for your life, how he had so many things on his mind and, unfortunately, Ray wasn’t one of them, but he was stopped by a puzzled voice that shouldn't have been there. "What the fuck are you guys talking about?" asked Ray, though he was nowhere to be seen. "I'm literally right here."

"Ray?" Gavin hissed, glancing around the room, trying to find his friend.

"What? Stop doing that, I'm right here. Can't you see me?"

"No," Ryan said unhelpfully.

"Do you think it was part of the curse? Maybe he's invisible," Gavin whispered.

"I can still hear you, you know. And no, I'm not invisible. Well, I am but that's not the point. Hang on." There was a pause. Suddenly Jack's eyes focused on the man they had been looking for the entire time. He didn't look exactly the same, though only a few minor details were clearly changed. For one his eyes were a pale white and for another he looked practically transparent. "Yeah, no, I'm a fucking ghost if you didn't catch on to the whole 'I'm dead' thing."

With their missing member restored one decision was left to be made. It wasn’t a decision he wanted to make, but it was one he had to nonetheless. "What do we do now?" Lindsay asked, startling Jack a bit. To be honest he had forgotten she was there.

"We leave," Jack said flatly. He didn’t want to risk everyone else any more than they had to. "The portal's right there, we go through it and we're done."

"But what about Geoff?" Gavin protested. "He's the whole reason any of us are here."

"Well, it obviously worked for him so I won't imagine they'd kill him. We need to leave first and foremost. After that, though, we'll have to think of a way to rescue Geoff."

Ryan nodded in agreement, prompting everyone else to do the same. With that they went back through the portal to the Overworld, ignorant to the fact that the people of the End didn't take kindly to humans jumping into their realm and taking a gift reserved for royalty with them back to their world. That is to say, the portal back was a trap. While Kdin had been willing to let them go the Ender King was not. With all of them trapped and awaiting their fate in a suspended state it was up to the King to decide what to do with them.

"Put them in their world. In the monolith. The Builder, however, put in the Altar. It was built for that purpose, after all." And that was that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this is the end of the first part (hopefully not the last, though I'm terrible with long term fics). The second part might come soon, who knows. I might try to reboot one of my old fics in the meantime, or maybe make a new one. If you liked this, then cool. If you didn't that's fine as well. For those of you who bothered to read the whole thing, thanks! See you in the next part!


End file.
